


Point Blank

by Karasuno Volleygays (ToBeOrNotToBeAGryffindor)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Brief (but pertinent) Mention of Homophobia, Financial shenanigans, Future Fic, M/M, Minor Character Death, Scary Men with Guns, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-11
Updated: 2018-02-13
Packaged: 2019-03-03 14:23:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 44,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13343091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToBeOrNotToBeAGryffindor/pseuds/Karasuno%20Volleygays
Summary: Iwaizumi Hajime accepted a position at a company that was going places, and he knew he had a bright future ahead of him if he just kept his head down and worked hard — a future his family desperately needed him to achieve. He didn't count on an old rival working in the same building, nor Ushijima Wakatoshi's surprisingly cordial demeanor, yet he managed to make an unlikely friend and an even more unlikely roommate.But when Iwaizumi climbed up the company ladder and into some of the more shadowy recesses of the corporate realm, he knew they would both get more than they bargained for, and the only person he knew he could trust was Ushijima.





	1. Newly Acquainted

**Author's Note:**

> This one goes out to Kaitlin and Cici, two very supportive and thirsty rarepair shippers. Thanks for cheering me on, and I hope it was worth the wait!

Iwaizumi adjusted his tie for what felt like the hundredth time during the train ride. He had always hated the damn things, but since he had graduated from college and been forced to join the realm of adult responsibility, he had to wear one to work. 

However, he could really do without the two hour commute.

It had been the best career opportunity provided by his college’s job placement program, almost guaranteed to fast track him to lofty places in the company — Trade Inc., an internet stock trading mogul recently expanded to Japan from America. Of course, he’d have to basically live there for the first year or two, but once prospects survive that phase of the job, everything else would seem like a cake walk in comparison. 

He was in Week Three of his drudgery sentence, and it was already obvious to him why the attrition rate for new hires was so high. Guys used to cracking books and sitting behind desks all day were committing to long hours of running errands, data entry, and whatever other menial tasks the floor supervisor threw their way. Most of them made it to late afternoon before the weariness started to set in, but not Iwaizumi. Fueled by almost two decades of athletics and a competitive streak a mile wide, he was usually the only one still moving faster than a crawl by the time everyone could check out for the night.

That didn’t mean his legs, feet, and back didn’t hurt like a bitch by the time the weekend hit, but a couple days of rest recharged his batteries and sent him back to work on Mondays ready to fight his way to the front of the pack. By this point, Iwaizumi could already tell his fellow interns resented his drive and stamina, but their enmity would mean very little to him when most of them would be gone in a year’s time or less.

At last, the train shuddered to a stop at the station down the street from Trade, and Iwaizumi was one of the first to the doors. He would arrive at his usual half-hour early, which was enough time to guzzle some mediocre coffee and walk the bullpen to see if there were any major disasters that had cropped up overnight; there usually were.

After draining his mug a few times, Iwaizumi did his usual rounds, but he nearly tripped over his own feet when he saw someone he had legitimately thought he would never lay eyes on again. “Holy crap, I can’t believe it’s him.”

Iwaizumi’s muttered exclamation made the tall, wide figure crossing the far side of the room pause and turn, and there was no mistaking it. Ushijima Wakatoshi was strolling through Iwaizumi’s workplace as if he owned it, a gleaming briefcase in hand and a spendy-looking watch glittering on the wrist above it. He watched as Ushijima looked him over from head to to, squinted, and then went about his business as if Iwaizumi were a potted plant.

“Oh, hell no,” Iwaizumi grumbled before jogging after his old high school rival. “Hey, Ushijima, wait up.”

Ushijima stopped in the doorway leading to the elevators. He pulled back his suit jacket sleeve to look at his watch, and with a cryptic hum, he turned around to face Iwaizumi. “Can I help you?”

“Yeah, uh, I —” Iwaizumi wanted to kick his own ass for stammering like a moron. This wasn’t just some random guy with an important looking getup and an even more important looking briefcase; it was the guy who had run faster, jumped higher, and hit harder than anyone Iwaizumi had ever seen waltzing through an office building the same way he presided over a volleyball court. “I was just wondering how long you’ve worked here. I figured you’d be playing volleyball until you croaked.”

Quirking a brow, Ushijima replied, “You can’t play games forever. Win while you can, and then go win at something else.”

“I guess I never pictured you with this kind of job,” Iwaizumi observed with a shrug. “Typing instead of sweating. Board rooms instead of locker rooms.” With a chortle, he added, “No Oikawa to give you nicknames you hate.”

If he didn’t know better, Iwaizumi could have sworn he saw a ghost of a smile tug at Ushijima’s usually grimly set lips. “Indeed.” Once again, Ushijima checks his watch and swallows hard. “If you’ll excuse me. I have a meeting in fifteen minutes.”

“Oh, yeah, sure thing.” Iwaizumi gives Ushijima a brief nod. “Well, it’s, um, nice to know someone else in this building, I guess.”

“Of course.” Ushijima returns the gesture and heads for the far elevator. Iwaizumi blinks in surprise at this, as he had been instructed on Day One that access to that particular elevator was restricted to authorized personnel only. One had to have a special scanning chip on their name badge just to get into it, and the guy who had presumably gone to college just as long as Iwaizumi and started around the same time inserted his chip card into the elevator’s reader and walked right inside.

“Well, I’ll be damned.” Iwaizumi twirled his empty coffee cup in his hands, his fingers tingling with what he would categorize as irritation that Ushijima yet again had managed to surpass him despite his best efforts. But he shook off this thought before returning his mug to his locker and heading to the back of the bullpen to await the floor supervisor’s arrival for his daily task list.

Iwaizumi didn’t give Ushijima much more thought as he scurried around the floor, delivering copies and memos or whatever else cropped up. He had enough to do without filling his brain with those old, pathetic feelings of inadequacy when it came to the one guy in the prefecture who really had seemed to have it all.

Once lunchtime rolled around, Iwaizumi was ready for some sort of energy not derived from caffeine. His first week had been carefully prepared bento boxes he had made at home, but weariness and the monstrous commute had pre-empted that practice in favor of the pre-made bentos available in the building’s cafeteria. They were reasonably priced, tasted decent, and assorted enough that Iwaizumi figured he would probably never pack another lunch. At least, until he didn’t have to sit with it in his lap for two hours on a crowded train.

After checking out, he eyed the rows of rapidly filling tables. Iwaizumi generally bypassed the tables where the business partners and upper management sat, not wanting to horn in on conversations he probably wasn’t supposed to hear. However, as time wore on and the other interns fell farther behind him, he had noticed a few hostile glances thrown his way as he searched for somewhere to sit, urging him to make a different choice in seating without saying as much.

His gaze settled on a smaller table next to the wall, where Ushijima sat clicking away at his laptop while taking regular drags from his coffee. “Man, this is nuts.” With an eye roll, he headed over to Ushijima’s table and cleared his throat before asking, “Mind if I sit here?”

“Suit yourself,” Ushijima muttered without taking his eyes off the screen. “The eel roll box is good.”

Brows drawing together in puzzlement, it took Iwaizumi a moment to realize that Ushijima was remarking on the lunch he had just purchased. It had been chosen by the fact that Iwaizumi had yet to try it, rather than a deep-seeded desire to eat sushi before a long afternoon of work. “Yeah,” he answered blankly, tapping his toes nervously on the floor as he set into his lunch. 

It was a full ten minutes of a strangely static silence before Iwaizumi decided to break the ice. “So, what department do you work for? I’ve been here for a few weeks, but I’ve never seen you before today.”

“Security,” Ushijima answered flatly, drawing a surprised stare from Iwaizumi.

“Wow, that’s kind of cool. I’m pretty sure my parents would disown me if I went through six years of business school just to do something completely different.” He polished off the last of the eel roll, which were as good as Ushijima had indicated, and crossed his arms on the table. “So you get to go up the secret spy elevator, eh?”

Ushijima’s fingers stopped on his keyboard, and he cast a confused glance over the top of the screen. “The what?”

Iwaizumi couldn’t help but chuckle. “You know, the one you need a special key card to get into. Top brass only. And apparently security.”

“Oh, yes. Right.” Ushijima took advantage of the pause to finish off his coffee. “My station is on the top floor.”

“Dude, really?” Iwaizumi found himself leaning in closer in interest. “So you see the CEO every day?”

Ushijima nodded and resumed his work. “I should think so. I  _ am  _ his private escort.”

“And I thought I worked a lot of hours.” Iwaizumi looked down at his almost empty bento and coffee and ate the rest of it as fast as he could without choking. When he finished, he said, “Thanks for sharing the table. I’ll see you around.” With that, he disposed of his trash and headed back to the bullpen where things were normal and had long stopped surprising him like Ushijima had just done.

The rest of the day ground by at a glacial pace, with seemingly everybody in his path afflicted with a case of the Mondays. When nine o’clock rolled around, the last supervisor left in the building stopped by and grumbled, “Go home before you find anything else to do.” Iwaizumi didn’t need to be told twice, so he burst through the doors before anyone could change their mind and put him back to work.

He all but ran to the train station, but as he jogged to his usual platform, he caught sight of Ushijima’s unmistakable silhouette on the next platform over. “Oh, hey again,” Iwaizumi called, walking slower on the unlikely chance that Ushijima would continue the conversation.

“That’s the train to Aiku,” Ushijima remarked.

Iwaizumi stopped and scratched his head. “Yeah. It’s, uh, kind of where I live.”

Ushijima blinked at him. “That’s two hours away. Did you not relocate to Miyagino when you took this job?”

“Relocate,” Iwaizumi scoffed. “When I finally get paid enough to relocate, I’ll be sure to let you know.”

Even in the light of the streetlamps, Iwaizumi couldn’t mistake Ushijima’s hint of a blush. “I apologize. That’s none of my business.”

Shrugging, Iwaizumi shoved his hands in his pockets. “Yeah, well not all of us get to work on the top floor. One day, sure, but that isn’t going to be today.”

Ushijima fell silent, but after looking at his watch a couple of times, he frowned and looked up at Iwaizumi. “You won’t get back to Aiku until almost eleven.”

“Yep.” 

“And you have to be back to the office by eight.”

Iwaizumi shuddered at that thought. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

“You would have to leave Aiku by half past five to get here on time.”

“Right again.” Iwaizumi took a few curious steps toward Ushijima and raised a brow. “You, um, got a point or are you just really bored?”

“Just observing.” Ushijima checked his watch again and edged closer to the platform, where his train ground to a halt in front of him. “Have a good night, Iwaizumi,” he said without turning back.

“Yeah, you do the same.” Iwaizumi headed over to his own platform, where he waited for another twenty minutes before his own train arrived. 

The ride home was almost cruelly long, and Iwaizumi indulged in a nap to pass the time, as well as restore some of the energy his unusually long day had sapped from him. By the time he arrived at his own neighborhood on the complete opposite end of Sendai, he could barely stand up straight enough to walk the half kilometer from the stop to his family’s apartment.

Inside, he greeted his mother, Rino, who looked up from her tablet to give him a tight smile. “You look exhausted.”

“I am.” Iwaizumi dropped down on the low couch next to the kotatsu and yawned loudly. “God I’m hungry.”

Rino offered him a clap on the shoulder, and Iwaizumi could swear she gave him a sad smile. “There’s a plate for you in the refrigerator. Eat and go right to bed before you drop.”

Iwaizumi leaned over and gives Rino a peck on the cheek. “Thanks, Mom.”

In the kitchen, he pulled out the plate waiting for him and scarfed it down cold in record time, allowing him to stumble through the hallway to the room he shared with his younger brother, Ryouta, who had just started his second year of high school. He entered quietly, but as expected, Ryouta was lying in his bed, his thumbs flying over the screen of his smartphone. “Hey,” Iwaizumi hailed weakly before shedding his work clothes into a haphazard pile on the floor.

“You look like crap,” Ryouta remarked, his eyes never leaving his phone. “Mom’s worried about you.”

Iwaizumi huffs, tugging on his pajamas and collapsing on his bed. “I figured.” His eyes closed on their own accord, and he took a moment to thank his past self for setting recurring alarms on his phone so that was one less thing he had to worry about. “Go to bed. You have school in the morning.”

Ryouta rolled his eyes but did put his phone on his nightstand to charge. “‘Night, Hajime.”

“‘Night, Ryou,” Iwaizumi managed before he passed out.


	2. A New Arrangement

At the sound of his five o’clock alarm, Iwaizumi whimpered and curled into a ball beneath his covers. The alarm persisted, growing steadily louder until he could hear a bleary voice across the room command, “Dude, shut that off.”

“Yeah, I know,” Iwaizumi grunted, swatting blindly at his phone until it finally silenced. “Shit.” It took every scrap of willpower Iwaizumi possessed and then some to roll out of bed, his eyes still refusing to open while he lurched across the hallway to the bathroom. The light burned his eyes through the lids. He reached out and fumbled around for his toothbrush and toothpaste, only opening his eyes enough to make sure they were his, and blindly went through his morning ablutions in under ten minutes, including what he would only loosely refer to as a shower.

In the kitchen, he found a box of pre-packaged breakfast pastries Rino had left out for him, and he smiled. She had done that for him and Oikawa during sleepovers on school nights to make sure they ate before morning practice. Iwaizumi took three of them and slipped one into each of his suit pockets and opened the other right away, letting his hang from his mouth as he rearranged his hair using his reflection from the side of the toaster and put on his watch.

With his keys in hand, Iwaizumi jogged for the train station half a kilometer from his house, making it two minutes ahead of his usual train’s scheduled arrival time. He bought a newspaper and a coffee from the vending machines in the waiting area and allowed the fresh wave of caffeine take its hold, shaking his brain out of its sleepy haze.

On the train, Iwaizumi used the newspaper as a pillow and slept through most of the trip, until his preset alarm shook him back to consciousness twenty minutes before his stop. Rubbing his bleary eyes, Iwaizumi stretched out his weary limbs and loudly yawned before scarfing down his final two sweet buns and skimming the headlines. He finished up just as his stop was called on the overhead, and he stood to take a spot on the handrail by the nearest door with his paper tucked under his other arm.

Iwaizumi was the first off the train when it stopped, and he did not break stride until he was through the threshold of the Trade building. After his customary three cups of coffee from the break room, Iwaizumi started out for his customary rounds before his shift officially began.

“Iwaizumi,” called a familiar voice, and he turned around to give a nod of the head.

“Ushijima.”

Ushijima looked Iwaizumi up and down multiple times, his nose scrunching in concentration. Finally, he said, “You don’t look as tired as you should be.”

Shaking his head, Iwaizumi gave a lopsided smile. “I think I’m pretty much only awake through the power of caffeine and sugar right now.”

Nodding, Ushijima murmured, “Understandable.” With that, he headed toward the elevators once again, leaving with a soft, “See you at lunch, Iwaizumi.”

 _See you at lunch_. Iwaizumi stared after Ushijima, letting the words sink into his lagging brain. Ushijima sought out to greet him before implying that they would eat lunch together again. He had taken note of Iwaizumi’s schedule and expressed interest in his well being.

Iwaizumi chuckled to himself as he thought about how he would tell all of this to Oikawa.

His morning passed with minimal nonsense, having endured his fair share of it the day before, so by the time lunch came around, Iwaizumi’s steps were lighter than anticipated as he headed for the cafeteria.

This time, he settled on a hot bento of hibachi pork and a can of iced tea, and when he scanned the tables, it didn’t take him long to find his quarry. Ushijima sat at the same table he had the day before and was clicking away at his laptop, but when Iwaizumi set his lunch box down the table, his fingers stilled and he shut the lid.

“The pork is good,” Ushijima remarked, casting a pointed glance at his own bento, which was the same as Iwaizumi’s. They both muttered a quick blessing and started to eat, and when their meals were polished off, Ushijima asked, “Do you have to stay late again tonight?”

“Nah, I don’t think so.” Iwaizumi took a long drag of his tea to hide his surprise at Ushijima’s sudden interest in his day to day activities. “I’ll probably leave around six today.”

Ushijima hummed. “Same. Takatsuki-sama is flying out for the States today, so his personal attaché will take care of his escort needs. I’m on desk duty for the rest of the week.”

“Gross.” Iwaizumi polished off his tea and asked what he had wanted to ask since that morning. “So, um, how did you even get into security, anyway? Is it just because you’re the size of a yeti, or because you wanted to?”

Coughing, Ushijima covered his mouth while his shoulders shook, and it took Iwaizumi a moment to realize that he was laughing. “I was recruited out of college because I met the physical requirements. I passed the entrance exam, and I started my sidearm course the next day.”

Iwaizumi’s eyes widened and he hissed, “What, you carry a _gun_?” He looked around the edge of the table and frowned. “Where do you keep it?”

“In my jacket,” Ushijima answered, his voice low. “I’ve been assigned to Takatsuki-sama since this place opened.”

“I hope they pay you well. Carrying a gun would scare the shit out of me.” Iwaizumi crossed his arms on the table and buried his face in them. “Ugh, I want today to be over.”

Ushijima was silent for a long, awkward minute before he blurted, “You should move to this side of town, or you won’t last.”

“Huh?” Iwaizumi groaned as he craned his head up to blink tiredly at Ushijima. “Yeah, not gonna happen. Even if there was anything available for a remotely reasonable rate, I don’t have the key money _and_ I would have to choose between rent and food. I don’t have that kind of cash, and my mom can’t afford to help me out.”

“There is something available,” Ushijima said before sliding a sharp-looking business card across the table. “I have an extra room in my apartments at Takatsuki-sama’s estate. I asked him this morning if I could have a roommate, and when I mentioned it might be you, he asked your supervisor about you. It must have gone well, because he told me before he left that he was fine with it.”

Iwaizumi’s jaw dropped. “You what? I didn’t even think you liked me, and you’re asking me if I want to live with you?” His hand shot into his hair and tugged at the strands as he milled this around in his head. “It’s nuts that I’m even considering this, but how much are we talking about here?”

“Nothing.” Ushijima put his laptop into the briefcase at his feet. “Part of my contract with the company is that I live on Takatsuki-sama’s estate grounds on call as needed, and all my housing expenses are taken care of. I only need to buy groceries and things I want.”

“Damn, dude, that’s a good arrangement.” His fingers dropping onto the table, Iwaizumi drummed them against the fake wood as he considered the offer. On the bright side, he would spend at least three hours less on a train every day with about the same cost of living he had living with his mom. But that would require living with the guy who had loomed over him all through high school as the unattainable goal he never could reach.

However, when he mulled over the time he had spent with Ushijima in the past couple of days, Iwaizumi had to admit that his old rival had not been anything but agreeable from the start. Blunt, perhaps, and a little abrupt, but had he not had history with Ushijima, Iwaizumi couldn’t honestly say he wouldn’t have liked the guy.

Iwaizumi picked up the card and stared at the glossy raised lettering of Ushijima’s name and phone number, and with a shuddering breath, he said, “Any chance I could take a look at it first?”

Ushijima nodded. “We can do that tonight if you’re available. I can meet you at the station at six when you leave for the night.”

“Deal.” Iwaizumi put the card in the card box he kept inside his suit jacket and gathered the remnants of both their lunches. “And, um, thanks. You didn’t have to do that, but I appreciate it.”

With a slight incline of the head, Ushijima picked up his briefcase and said, “I’ll see you later, Iwaizumi.”

“Yeah, I’ll see you.”

Iwaizumi resumed his day in a daze, making careless mistakes he would have kicked his own ass for making had he not been a dangerous cocktail of tired and preoccupied. He couldn’t wrap his head around the idea of someone who by all rights shouldn’t give a damn what happens to him, yet Ushijima freaking Wakatoshi was offering him a free room and a fighting chance to survive his Year of Hell.

And the crazy thing was that Iwaizumi knew deep down that he wasn’t going to turn down the chance. Not because he couldn’t afford to pass it up, but because he didn’t want to.

Finally, the day ground to a halt and Iwaizumi was able to leave a little earlier than expected. By the time he got to the train station to meet up with Ushijima, it was only half past five. He looked around for a bench to pass the time, but as he spied one, he didn’t expect to see Ushijima sitting on it, legs crossed as he thumbed through an issue of _Volleyball Monthly_.

“Glad I got out early,” Iwaizumi remarked before settling on the bench next to Ushijima. “I hate to think you had to wait on me for so long.”

Ushijima hummed as he held the magazine closer to his face, brows knit in concentration. “It’s a nice day, and I haven’t followed volleyball for a while. It’s nice to catch up.”

Iwaizumi craned his head to look at what had captivated Ushijima’s attention and grinned when he saw the centerfold spread of Kageyama Tobio in his first professional volleyball team’s uniform, labeled ‘Rookie of the Year’. “Hey, that’s great. Kageyama’s a good kid.”

“He is a good volleyball player. Even Oikawa said so.” His lips twitched at the memory. “He told me Kageyama would crush me. I didn’t believe him.”

“Yeah, well —” He held out his hand and asked, “May I?” Iwaizumi held up the centerfold and let the dynamic pose draw him in. “Oikawa has a way of making people believe in him, but he also has moments where you’d tell him the sky was green to his face just because he says it’s blue in the most annoying way possible.”

Ushijima shrugged. “You’re not wrong.” He offered Iwaizumi a small quirk of the lip that he could finally categorize as a genuine smile. “The next train to my place leaves in ten minutes.”

“Oh, yeah.” He handed back the magazine and said, “I’m glad Kageyama’s doing well. I was worried with him and Oikawa both on the national team, only one of them would make it out alive.”

“Indeed.”

Ushijima led the way to the correct platform, and Iwaizumi finally had a reason to take in the passing scenery as they headed deeper and deeper into a neighborhood Iwaizumi didn’t think he could even afford to walk through, let alone live. He didn’t say as much, and when they disembarked, he followed Ushijima and tried his best to look as if he belonged in one of the nicest neighborhoods in Sendai.

When they finally reached the gate emblazoned with the glistening Takatsuki nameplate, Iwaizumi gazed in awe at the grounds beyond it. Neat lawns flanked smart-looking outbuildings, with an ornate fountain surrounded by roses resting in the middle. The house lay far away from the road, but it was larger than the entire apartment building Iwaizumi lived in.

They approached the gate, and Ushijima greeted the guard. “Morita-san. This is Iwaizumi Hajime. He works with me, and he was cleared by Takatsuki-sama to come here. He should be on the list.”

Morita clicked a few times on his laptop before he entered the code to open the gate, and with a wave, Ushijima led Iwaizumi onto the grounds. Expecting to be led to one of the outbuildings, Iwaizumi was intrigued when they headed instead to the back side of the house to a small entryway with two doorways: a stairwell and an elevator. Ushijima punched in a code on the keypad, and Iwaizumi heard the locking mechanisms in the door snap open.

Once inside, they headed up the stairwell to the third floor, where a simple-looking hallway spanned the breadth of the house. There were several doors, and Ushijima led him to the one toward the end of the eastern side of the building. “The staff entrance is more private for both the family and for us. If I need to get into the main house, I have a door in my bedroom that leads directly into Takatsuki-sama’s library.”

“I see.” Iwaizumi looked up at the high ceilings, which he could almost hear his mother bemoaning the cost to heat and cool such a huge area. “So you don’t even pay to live here?”

Ushijima unlocked the door to his apartments. “That’s right.” He opened it, swinging it wide to gesture inside for Iwaizumi. “After you.”

Inside, Iwaizumi’s eyes widened. The entire space was immaculate. The furniture and decor were tasteful and muted, and there was not a speck of dust nor an item out of place. A large flat-screen television hung dormant on the wall opposite the window, and the only sign that the place was an actual home and not a hotel was the pile of dvds on the entertainment center below the set.

Iwaizumi quickly toed off his shoes and padded onto the pristine tatami mats covering the entire expanse of the floor. Near the television, he looked down and finally caught a few of the dvd titles. “Didn’t see that coming.”

Picking up one of the cases, Iwaizumi’s finger traced the clean lines of the cover art of an old baseball anime he and Ryouta used to huddle around the tv as kids and watch together every Saturday. “I loved this show. My brother and I used to watch it. He got into baseball because of it.” He harrumphed and put down the case. “He’s good, too. He’ll probably get drafted right out of high school.”

“I hope he does well,” Ushijima commented as he swung open a door on the far side of the main room. “This would be your room.”

Iwaizumi followed Ushijima to the room in question, and he swallowed hard when he saw what was through the doorway. The room was facing the backyard of the estate, and the window looked out over an even larger and immaculately manicured garden and the soft, vast expanse of green grass. The room itself was average sized, but the layout was spacious and efficient, on top of a large closet spanning over half the breadth of the inner wall.

“Are you sure?” he murmured, drifting over to the window and running his fingers over the finely carved wooden sill. “I know you probably need the library access door, but why wouldn’t you want a view like this?” He unlocked the window and pushed it open, inhaling the heady scent of flowers and _clean_. “It smells like we’re not even in the city.”

Ushijima nodded. “Takatsuki-sama has been very fortunate in his business ventures. The garden is his wife’s passion, though.” Something glittered in Ushijima’s eyes that Iwaizumi could only describe as pleasure. “There are over two hundred varieties of flowering plants in the gardens. Takako-sama spends a great deal of time and effort cultivating them.”

“You sound impressed.” Iwaizumi couldn’t fight off a smile at Ushijima’s barely contained enthusiasm over the subject. “So you’re into horticulture?”

“I have a passing interest.” Ushijima looked away, but Iwaizumi could see a hint of color on his cheeks and he didn’t bother to hide a smile. “Takako-sama is very kind to share her knowledge with me when time permits.”

Iwaizumi’s brows knit as he listened to Ushijima talk about Takatsuki’s wife. “Are you sure that’s okay, hanging around your boss’s wife? I mean, I don’t think you’d do anything, but you have to realize what that looks like.”

Ushijima’s eyes narrowed, and his previous cheer slipped from his face. “That isn’t an issue.”

“How is that?” Iwaizumi scratched at his temple as he tried to picture literally any scenario where he, in Takatsuki’s shoes, would think of it as anything less than a very notable issue. “Believe me when I say I’m not trying to start anything. I’m just looking out for you, man.”

And the truth was Iwaizumi did want to look out for Ushijima. In the past couple of days, he had absorbed more knowledge about his longtime rival than six years of volleyball had afforded him. Ushijima had been nothing but polite, considerate, and generous. The idea of him losing his job over a misunderstanding didn’t sit well with Iwaizumi.

Of course, he couldn’t possibly have been prepared for Ushijima’s answer.

“It’s not an issue,” he repeated, “because I prefer men and Takatsuki-sama knows that already. I often escort Takako-sama on weekend outings, as well as around the grounds.”

“Oh, damn, I —” Iwaizumi gaped at Ushijima, his tone perfectly even and ringing true as he doled out his confession. “Now I feel like a jackass. I guess I shouldn’t worry about stuff that isn’t any of my business.”

Ushijima shook his head and leaned against the wall, his head dropping back as he sighed. “It is your business. I wouldn’t want you to be unaware of this before agreeing to share a space with me. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“What? No!” Iwaizumi almost stomped over to stand in front of Ushijima, arms crossed as he glared up at him. “Now, I don’t know a whole lot about you outside of volleyball, but you haven’t done a thing to make me not want to be around you. I don’t give a damn who you wanna sleep with, just as long as everyone is willing.” In a softer tone, he added, “There’s enough damn hate and prejudice in the world, but I swear you won’t be getting any of it from me.”

Eyes wide, Ushijima nodded and looked up at the ceiling. “Thank you.” He took a long, shuddering breath. “I was always supposed to have a roommate, but no one wanted to share with me, so this room has been vacant since I moved in.”

Iwaizumi felt the hairs on the back of his neck bristle as his hackles rose “That’s shitty, Ushijima. That really sucks.” With a fortifying breath, he bowed to Ushijima, who returned the gesture. Afterward, Iwaizumi extended a hand. “I have to talk to my mom about this, but I’m pretty sure my brother would love to not have to share a room anymore. If she doesn’t object to me moving out, consider it a deal.”

Ushijima took his hand, and Iwaizumi could see the tension in his shoulders visibly abate.

They left the apartment, and Ushijima walked Iwaizumi to the station, directing him to the right platform to head back to his own neck of the woods, and Iwaizumi’s brain was full of new, staggering information as the train trundled home.


	3. Divergence

As he had suspected, Rino not only approved of the move, but was relieved as well. “Hajime, I’ve been so worried about the hours you’ve been keeping. Living closer to work will give you a chance to rest more.” She reached up and cupped his cheek with her work-roughened palm. “I know it’s been hard without your dad around, but you’ve done more than enough to help your brother and me, and now it’s time to help yourself.

“So go.” Her eyes were watering, but the sternness of her voice was unmistakable.

His eyes filling up, Iwaizumi took his mother’s hand and kissed her knuckles. His voice cracked as he said, “How’d I end up with the coolest mom ever?”

Rino drew him into a brisk hug, the strength of her grip reminding him of how he had inherited his innate wiry strength. “I can’t believe you’re all grown up already. I’m even going to miss those horrible cake things you eat for breakfast instead of real food.”

“I’ll send you pictures,” Iwaizumi added with a choked laugh, burying his face in the homey scent of his mother’s hoodie for the last time in what would probably be a long while. “I’ll tell Ryouta when he gets home.”

She nodded, and they held onto each other for a while longer before they tackled packing Iwaizumi’s things together. They were halfway through cleaning out his side of the closet when the door swung open and Ryouta froze in the doorway, his baseball bag landing will a dull thud at his side.

Putting down the box in his arms, Iwaizumi went to stand beside his brother and rest a hand on his shoulder. “C’mon, Ryou. Let’s take a walk.”

Ryouta gave him a dubious look but complied nonetheless. They left the house and walked down the rapidly dimming sidewalk along their street, silent until they were almost completely around the block. 

“I’m moving to the other side of town,” Iwaizumi finally said. “I work long hours, and if I keep up with the monster commute, it’s gonna kill me. A friend of mine from work has an extra room, and I’m gonna live with him.”

Ryouta stared straight forward as they continued their mindless trek. His face was about as impassive as an Iwaizumi face could possibly get, but the corners of his mouth were clenched to fight off whatever emotion was brewing inside his head.

“What about Mom?” Ryouta’s voice was gravelly. His fingers flexed into fists at his sides, and his teeth started to grit together. “She  _ needs  _ you, Hajime. She worries about money  _ all _ the time. If you leave, what she makes at the hospital isn’t enough to pay the bills. You know that.”

Iwaizumi reeled to a stop and stared at his brother, who looked a lot like himself at that age, except his own face had never carried those worried little creases around his eyes. He hadn’t realized how much Ryouta knew about the family’s tight financial situation, but not only was he aware, he bore the weight of it as much as the elder two Iwaizumis did. 

“I’m sorry you feel like you have to worry about that.” Iwaizumi reached up to rest a hand on Ryouta’s shoulder, but he let it fall back to his side as he sighed. “I know Dad leaving us really screwed everything up, and Mom did what she could to pick up the slack. Believe me, I’m not blind to that, and I’m not running away from it.”

Shoving his hands in his pocket, he said, “This move is going to be good for all of us. The cost of living there will be really low, so I can still send at least half of my paycheck home. Everything’s going to be okay, and I don’t want you to worry about it. I’m your big brother, and damn it, I’m going to take care of you.” Iwaizumi swallowed past a knot of emotion in his throat. “You just play your heart out and leave the worrying to us old folks, all right.” 

Ryouta looked at him for a long, awkward thirty seconds before throwing his arms around Iwaizumi and sniffling into his shoulder. “I’m gonna miss you.”

Iwaizumi ran his fingers through his brother’s soft hair, so much different from the gel-crusted mess his own had been like at that age. “I know, buddy. I’m gonna miss you, too.”

They walked shoulder to shoulder back to the house, and Iwaizumi felt like crap about how much burden his little brother had been hauling around. Sixteen was far too young to worry about anything but chasing girls and playing ball, with a little bit of homework thrown in. Sure, Iwaizumi had worried about some of this stuff, too, after their dad had left when he was fourteen, but he realized in hindsight how much Rino had done to shield him from that weight. And also how much he had  _ not  _ done to shield Ryouta from it, as well. 

Inside, Ryouta headed straight for the kitchen table to start on his homework, and when Iwaizumi returned to his room to continue helping Rino round up his things, she gave him a look of askance. Iwaizumi couldn’t meet her eye as he murmured, “God, I am the worst brother in the world. I couldn’t even tell how stressed out he was about money. He’s just a kid.”

Rino’s hands stilled, and she dropped the armload of pants she had been folding onto his futon. “It’s not your fault, Hajime. It isn’t anyone’s fault. It’s just how the situation is.”

“Doesn’t mean I have to like it.” Their eyes met, and for the first time, he could truly see how much the stress of the past ten years had aged her. He dropped woodenly onto his futon and let his shoulders shake as his head hung low over his knees. Rino quietly sat beside him and rested her forehead on his shoulder, her arms winding around him, and he welcomed her soothing presence. 

“I’m just so tired,” he croaked. “I don’t know how to fix this for you.”

He felt her smile against his shoulder. “You don’t have to. I’ve got a few things to say about how things turn out, and I’m not out of options yet. You need to take care of yourself, Hajime. God knows you’ve never let  _ me _ take care of you, so somebody has to.” She kissed his forehead and gave his shoulders a squeeze. “Now, let’s get you packed. I’ll see if I can find someone who can drive it across town tomorrow. I think Tooru’s dad has a bigger sedan. He would probably help if we asked.”

Sniffling loudly, Iwaizumi said gratefully, “Thanks, Mom.”

The rest of the packing was executed in silence, save for a stray ‘pass this’ or ‘pass that’ from time to time. Iwaizumi ached to tell his mother everything would be fine, that he’d send every spare yen he had left to help her make ends meet, but he couldn’t. Not because he didn’t plan on doing exactly that, but every time he tried to open his mouth and say it, she would shut him down with a look that brooked no argument.

The next morning, Iwaizumi awoke refreshed and relieved, both because of his early bedtime the night before, and also because for the first time since he started working these monstrous hours, he felt like the weight of it would be just light enough for him to make it past his internship and into a solid job offer. Instead of waking up at five, he could sleep until six or even six-thirty. Instead of getting home after dark, he would still have a sliver of his day to look out and absorb the clean smell of the Takatsuki estate gardens.

He never once pictured doing any of those things with Ushijima sleeping in the next room, but life wasn’t anything if not full of surprises. 

This time when Ushijima passed through on his way to the elevators, he sought Iwaizumi out directly, who was waiting for him. “Good morning.”

“”Morning.” Iwaizumi polished off his coffee and gave Ushijima a lopsided smile. “So, uh, when can I move in?”

Iwaizumi saw Ushijima’s eyes close, and while Ushijima was hard to read on a good day, he could have sworn he saw relief pass over his face. Finally, Ushijima answered, “Right away. Tonight is fine if you have the time, but if you need to wait for the weekend, there is no rush.”

“Great.” Iwaizumi sighed heavily. “I just need to find someone with a car. I might ask Oikawa’s dad.”

Ushijima shook his head. “That isn’t necessary. I can borrow a company car and help you with that.”

Frowning, Iwaizumi quirked a brow. “Are you sure it’s okay to use a company car for stuff like that?”

“Of course,” Ushijima says flatly. “Takatsuki-sama has actually asked me why I never use them when it’s part of my benefits packet that I can.”

Iwaizumi hums. “Oh? Why don’t you, then?”

Ushijima shrugged and looked away. “Where would I go?”

Something uncomfortable and itchy wriggles in Iwaizumi’s throat at that thought, and for the first time since he had seen the guy three days before, he realized that Ushijima lived a solitary life. A lonely life. What had been so puzzling just the day before made a world of sense to him now. Ushijima  _ wanted _ a roommate, and he wanted someone who wanted him — something denied him by his comrades who refused to bunk with him.

“Yeah, we’re gonna fix that.” Iwaizumi gave Ushijima a small shove toward the elevators. “Now get going before you’re late.”

Ushijima stumbled into compliance, and Iwaizumi had a lot to think about as he watched his new roommate leave. The rest of his morning passed in a blur of mindless drudgery, his thoughts honing in on Ushijima a number of times. He wondered where his friends from high school fit into his life, if he had any left, and more than once asked himself when or if Ushijima visited his family. Did he even  _ like _ his family? Iwaizumi couldn’t picture any enmity toward his own current family, but he could definitely linger on the mental image of punching his old man a time or twelve.

When lunch rolled around, Iwaizumi automatically sought out Ushijima, only to squint in puzzlement when his usual table sat vacant. With a harrumph, he sat down at it anyway and let his gaze stray to the door lest he miss his usual lunch companion’s arrival.

It wasn’t until Iwaizumi’s lunch was gone before he remembered the number he had punched into his phone the day before, mentally smacking himself for not returning the favor. He keyed in a quick ‘are you not taking lunch?’ and hit send, hoping Ushijima would know it was him and respond.

The reply was almost immediate.

_ I apologize, but I’ll have to reschedule your move until this weekend. I’m on a plane to Los Angeles right now. Takatsuki-sama asked for extra security.  _ Shortly after, another text arrived.  _ I wanted to let you know right away, but I didn’t have your number. When I get a chance, I’ll try to make arrangements for you to get into the apartment without me in case you do find someone to help you. Otherwise, I should be back on Sunday. _

Iwaizumi’s mind immediately began a frantic inventory of all the things that could have prompted their CEO to require additional protection, and he didn’t like a single one of them. He liked thinking about Ushijima being used as a human shield even less. America was a country full of violence and firearms, and Los Angeles was the rule rather than the exception if the international news could be trusted. 

Ready to focus his mind on literally anything else, Iwaizumi scarfed the rest of his lunch and headed straight back to work. He threw himself into his tasks with a fervor unusual even for him. Around mid-afternoon, even his floor supervisor remarked upon it.

“Iwaizumi, a word?” said Tokugawa, his boss, before giving a meaningful look at his office. When Iwaizumi tensed at the command, Tokugawa chuckled. “Relax, you’re not in trouble.”

Inside, he gestured for Iwaizumi to sit down across his own seat at the massive desk, which was covered from edge to edge with stacks of folders. Tokugawa gestures at the pile and gives a wry chuckle. “I’m in a bit of a bind here. Since you’re the person with the most potential and the least important way to spend it, you’re going to help me for a while.”

Iwaizumi blinked in surprise. “Sir?”

“You’re wasted on errands,” Tokugawa explained, pushing one of the ominous stacks toward Iwaizumi. “But since I can’t promote you right away due to your lack of seniority, I intend to make sure that when you are finally up for a promotion, you’ll get a much better position than some low-level salaryman.” He tapped the stack of folders. “You have drive, I have paperwork, so I suggest we get started.”

Fighting off a smile, Iwaizumi nodded. “Yes, sir.”

After a crash course in what sat in front of him, Iwaizumi pulled out his pen and got straight to work. He wasn’t moving through the papers nearly as fast as Tokugawa was, but slowly and surely, he grew more at ease with the work and the patterns and logic of it began to lodge itself into his brain. 

It was well past ten, their jackets and ties long disposed of, before Tokugawa yawned loudly and said, “I think I’ve had enough of this for today. You can stay here if you want, but I’m going home.”

Iwaizumi shakes his head. “I shouldn’t. I live two hours away, and I don’t want to be completely wiped tomorrow if we’re going to keep working on this.”

“We are.” Tokugawa’s face screwed up in thought. “Takatsuki-sama asked me about you the other day. He wanted to know what you were like, if you could be trusted.”

Immensely glad he had already known about this conversation beforehand, Iwaizumi nodded. “Yes. One of his security men is an old acquaintance of mine from high school. He has an extra room in his apartment on Takatsuki-sama’s estate and wanted to offer it to me so I wouldn’t have such a long commute. Takatsuki-sama agreed, so I’ll be moving in as soon as they both get back from the States.”

“I see.” Tokugawa’s gaze bored into Iwaizumi for what felt like the longest ten seconds of his life. “So you aren’t curious about what I told him that would make him agree to that?”

Iwaizumi wilted a little when he realized that he hadn’t considered that until that very moment, and it became all he could think about. “I am curious,” came his little half-truth.

Tokugawa opened one of his desk drawers and pulled out a bottle of some expensive-looking whisky, along with a couple glasses. “Would you care for a drink?”

He almost refused, having got all of his misadventures with alcohol out of the way during college, and it had been quite a while since he had partaken. However, he nodded. “Please.”

The amber liquid sloshed in the glasses, pungent and smooth, and when both drinks were poured, he waited for Tokugawa to lift his own glass before doing the same. His first sip of it burned his throat, but he swallowed the urge to cough it back up. Tokugawa gave him a measured look, and when he eased back in his chair, Iwaizumi felt like he had passed some sort of test. 

“I told Takatsuki-sama exactly what I thought about you,” Tokugawa started, giving his drink a long drag until it was almost empty. “He wanted to know if you had a future here, if you could be trusted to sleep a stone’s throw away from his wife and kids. I said I couldn’t speak much to the latter part, but I wanted him to know that you could go anywhere you want in this company because you’re smart, efficient, and have a lot more drive than the sloths that came in with the rest of your batch.”

Iwaizumi’s cheeks heated at the compliment, and that only drew a wider smile from Tokugawa. “He was very interested to hear more, but he had a flight to catch and a ‘certain young man’ — I assume he meant your friend — to inform of his decision. I’m happy to hear things worked out for you.”

Taking a drag of his whisky, Iwaizumi settled on twirling the glass between his hands to keep from pumping a fist in glee. “Thank you, sir. That means a lot, and I hope I am worthy of your faith in me.”

“Relax.” Tokugawa drained his glass and stowed the bottle. “You’re always so serious. You’re too young to be so wound up. If the other interns didn’t hate you for being better than they are, they probably wouldn’t like you for being so serious.”

Iwaizumi ducked his head and worried his lower lip, fully aware that Tokugawa was probably right about that. “I’ll be nicer to them if you want. They just kind of piss me off when I’m doing twice the work and they have the nerve to get mad about it.”

Tokugawa let out a belly laugh. “Oh, you’ll do great here, Iwaizumi-kun. I think I’ll definitely be finding better ways to utilize you in the near future. But for now, I’m going to let you in on a little secret of mine. Follow me.”

Iwaizumi gulped the rest of his whisky, ignoring the pinprick of tears it brought to his eyes, and did as he was bid. Tokugawa led him to the far side of the bullpen and through toward the elevators. However, they bypassed all of those in favor of the special elevator that Ushijima took to the top floor every day. Tokugawa scanned his name badge, and the door slid open. He pressed the button for the third floor, and the elevator lurched into motion.

When they arrived at their stop, Tokugawa led Iwaizumi to a room he had not known existed. He slid open the door and gestured inside. “Take a look.”

Stepping into the room, Iwaizumi hadn’t known what to expect, but a bed that looked like it belonged in a ritzy hotel was not an option his brain had presented. Looking around the room, he took in the smart decor and rich embellishment, and a mattress that sat higher off the floor than Iwaizumi’s sure he had ever slept. “What is this room for?” he murmured, drawing a smile from Tokugawa.

“Takatsuki-sama had a few of these built into the executive wing,” Tokugawa explained. “I’m sure you know this already, but there will be times when your day ends up being two days. On those days, a handful of privileged individuals can choose to stay here to cut the commute out of an already long day. I’ve spent a night or two here in the past month, and for all your hard work today, I’m extending that privilege to you.”

Iwaizumi gasped, his breath shuddering in his chest as he took in the magnitude of the boon he was being offered. “Sir, I don’t know what to say.”

Tokugawa clapped him on the shoulder and said, “You could try ‘good night’.”

Dropping into a bow, Iwaizumi chirped, “Of course! Have a good night, sir, and thank you.”

Nodding in approval, Tokugawa gestured toward a computer panel built into the wall by the door. “There’s round-the-clock room service to these suites. Make sure you eat something and send your clothes to be cleaned and pressed. There are some night clothes in the closet, and the bath and shower is through that door.” He pointed toward a door on the far side of the room. “Use whatever you need. You’re a company man now, Iwaizumi. Enjoy the perks.”

With that, Tokugawa let himself out of the room and left Iwaizumi to gawk at this new and incredible development in his career. He stood stock still for nearly five minutes until he managed to order food and laundry service on the wall terminal. In less than a half hour, he was fed and ready for bed, and his mother knew not to wait up for him.

He slumped gratefully into the mattress and was more than happy to shave an hour and a half off his morning alarm.


	4. Watchmen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a little heavy in financial lingo, but I did my best to spell out what is happening in the narrative. If you're confused at all, don't hesitate to ask!

When he was shaken awake by his alarm at half past six, his body decried being pried from the covers, but he didn’t want to slide down the slippery slope that was the snooze. Instead, he ordered breakfast and was surprised at the knock on the door with a member of staff sweeping in with his freshly-pressed clothes and four different newspapers. “Is there anything else I can do for you, Iwaizumi-san?”

Blinking stupidly at the guy because he had never been asked that question before in his life, Iwaizumi shook his head and said, “No thanks. Have a good one.”

The man’s lips twitched. “You too, sir.”

Iwaizumi saw the staffer off, only for his breakfast to arrive right after. He gave the woman carrying it a smile and started off his day with more than one food group for the first time in a long while. Soon, he was showered and shaved and ready to head back into his own reality and leave this bizarre utopia behind.

His trip to his usual station was surreal coming from the elevators, and more than a few people noticed the aberration. “You moving up already, Iwaizumi?” asked one of the number crunchers whose name he couldn’t recall.

With a nervous chuckle, Iwaizumi answered, “Uh, something like that. Just a long day that turned into two.”

The man gave him a puzzled look, but Iwaizumi was already past him and headed into the bullpen. He was later than usual, only fifteen minutes early for his shift, but he had eaten, had coffee, skimmed  _ multiple _ papers; the only thing he hadn’t done was fall asleep sitting up and end up with a crick in his neck. It was a loss he could live with. 

He started his usual rounds to anticipate his work day, but he paused mid-step when he remembered that his entire routine had been indefinitely uprooted. His path changed, instead intercepting one of his fellow interns as he rushed into the building to avoid being late a third day in a row.

“Hey, Mako-san,” Iwaizumi hailed. He handed over his handwritten note card. “Tokugawa-san has me working with him today. This is the stuff that needs cleaned up.”

Mako shot Iwaizumi a hostile look as he took the note card, leaving only a stiff thanks before heading to his locker. Iwaizumi shrugged it off, realizing that Tokugawa’s interest in him was not going to make friends of his peers. However, he couldn’t let that affect his chances to drive forward to the day that they would all be working for him, anyway.

So Iwaizumi waited outside of Tokugawa’s office until he arrived a few minutes late and like he hadn’t slept nearly as well as Iwaizumi. Tokugawa took one look at the expectant interns, turned his attention to Iwaizumi, and said under his breath, “Find them something to do and come into my office.”

If Iwaizumi had thought his fellow interns had hated him before, it was nothing compared to the loathing in their eyes as they were forced to stand there and take orders from him. But Tokugawa’s word was law on the first floor, and Iwaizumi intended to enforce it. After he had given the interns their tasks for the morning, Iwaizumi slipped into Tokugawa’s office. “Sir?”

“Lock the door.” Tokugawa took the decanter of liquor from his desk drawer and took a long drag of it straight from the bottle. “Sit down. We have work to do.”

“Of course.” Iwaizumi worried his bottom lip as he tried to bite off any of the probing questions swirling around in his brain. What was so important that they couldn’t risk being walked in on? Why did Tokugawa look like he hadn’t slept at all? And why was Iwaizumi involved. 

Instead, Iwaizumi picked up a stack of folders and resumed what he had left off the night before. The process was painstaking and redundant, and it didn’t take long before Iwaizumi’s hands, far more accustomed to and trained for electronic, started to object. 

At last, Iwaizumi’s silence burst. “Why are we doing this on paper? We’re going to be here forever at this rate. A spreadsheet would take a quarter of the time.”

Tokugawa looked up from his own work, and his eyes were harder than Iwaizumi could remember. “Paper files have a way of keeping secrets electronic files do not.”

“I guess.” Iwaizumi scratched his head and frowned. “Is there something in particular we’re looking for doing it this way that we couldn’t find on the electronic server?”

A smile tugged at Tokugawa’s mouth. “Now you’re asking the right questions.”

As Tokugawa resumed his own work, Iwaizumi knew the matter was closed, so he did the same. He sifted through mountains of hard copies of various stock transactions, ranging from multi-million yen trades to small-time working class retirement investments. Everything Tokugawa had said and done practically shouted that there was something they were supposed to find. The only problem with that is that Iwaizumi had no idea what he was supposed to learn from it by dragging out the auditing process.

Lunch came in a hurry, but Tokugawa ordered in for both of them as they plugged away, flipping through pages mouthfuls of pork noodle. It was around the point where hunger rolled around again that Iwaizumi put down his pen and rubbed his palms into his bleary eyes. “I think my brain stopped working.”

“You’ll see it.” Tokugawa dropped his own pen, as well, and placed an order for dinner to kick off another late night. “Any preference for dinner?”

Iwaizumi shook his head and willed his pained wrist back into action, flipping though page after page of buys and sells and trades until all the names began blurring together. By the time the sun was completely down, Iwaizumi sighed and drooped his shoulders. “I’m not getting this or something. I feel like I’ve processed the same document half a dozen times and I can’t figure out why I keep messing it up.”

“Let me see.” Tokugawa took the folder from Iwaizumi and rummaged through it for a few minutes before shaking his head. “No, your work is impeccable as always. The fault isn’t yours.”

“Then what —” Eyes widening, Iwaizumi flipped through the same folder again, as well as the previous few he had done. “Okay, that makes sense. They just all looked so similar that I . . . oh, shit.”

His eyes met Tokugawa’s, and the brief nod he received told Iwaizumi that he was seeing exactly what he suspected. Swallowing hard, Iwaizumi forced his attention down at the finally dwindling pile, but the weight of his realization made his output grind to almost a halt. 

He finally understood why Tokugawa had insisted on paperwork instead of electronic auditing. If Iwaizumi had been inputting the information into the computer rather than reviewing it on paper, he never would have seen it. Never would have felt his own handwriting wrap around the evidence.

There was something fishy going on at Trade Inc., and Iwaizumi suspected that Tokugawa was trying to find it.

It was nearly eleven before either of them called it quits, and once again, Tokugawa shooed Iwaizumi into the overnight suite before heading home himself. This time, Iwaizumi didn’t bother gawking at the room’s luxurious interior, instead favoring hanging his dry cleaning on the doorknob, texting Rino that he wouldn’t be home, and falling asleep in his underwear.

His morning resembled the previous day’s, only this time, Iwaizumi’s attention went straight to the financial pages of the newspapers brought to him. He spotted one name in particular in every one of them, Fujiyama Unlimited, heralding higher-than-ever stock prices and ‘a bright and affluent future’ — the same company with a handful of shareholders fleeing their massive stock ownership like rats jumping from a burning ship. 

A company he knew had a very prominent and exclusive contract with Trade Inc.

He wasn’t an idiot or naive. Insider trading was Economics 101, and its effects on the entire market exchange were marked, even catastrophic in large enough occurrences. Anyone watching the Americans knew that much. There was no mistaking the connection, however, between the handful of bulk shareholders of Fujiyama Unlimited optioning their own shares, leaving Trade in the middle of a huge scandal.

The backlash would cost Trade millions in damages and lost confidence from the open market, and the fallout from the massive sellout would cost Fujiyama shareholders close to a billion once the share costs inevitably plummeted. It was probable that someone in Trade knew something about Fujiyama that no one else did for these transactions to go unnoticed, and it was possible that person had passed that information along illegally and for a tidy sum.

“Damn it.” Iwaizumi dropped his pen and buried his face in his hands. He wasn’t ready for this. He was three weeks into his first real job, and he was already charged with paper-trailing investment fraud dealing with more money than he would ever make in a lifetime. All he wanted to do was make a good living so Rino and Ryouta could live a lot more comfortably than they had since his father had left them. 

Tokugawa sighed and clapped Iwaizumi on the shoulder. “I know this is a lot to ask of you, but not only do you have a good head on your shoulders, you’re also principled and willing to do the right thing.” When Iwaizumi raised his head to meet Tokugawa’s earnest gaze, his jaw slackened in surprise.

“I was just doing my job.”

“Exactly.” Tokugawa pulled out a box of standard issue click-top pens from his desk. “See these? They’re just regular pens to do regular work with, and absolutely no one will miss them if they walk out the door. Half the people on this floor probably have dozens of them at home for personal use, but every day, I see you put your pens and anything else you happen to be carrying that you didn’t bring with you back into the supply closet.  _ That’s  _ how I knew I could trust you with this.”

Jaw dropping even further, Iwaizumi raised a brow. “You picked me because I put my pens back?”

“Well, and that you work damned hard with very few mistakes,” Tokugawa explained. “But it’s more the personal accountability you carry around with you. I knew once you caught on to the sell patterns, you would tell me. You needed to figure it out on your own so you can learn to look for things you don’t know you’re looking for.”

Iwaizumi’s mouth snapped shut when he realized Tokugawa was absolutely right. Instead, he honed his thoughts onto the masses of files he had worked through. “But most of these have nothing to do with Fujiyama. They’re almost all basic transactions.”

“That they are.” Tokugawa thumbed one stack he had been keeping separated from the rest of the processed files. “The CEO of Fujiyama Unlimited is set to walk away from the company because he doesn’t agree with its direction, and nobody will back his future plans. That information is not public yet, but a few of the major investors are already dumping shares and reinvesting in a competitor, who plans on buying out Fujiyama once their stocks plummet. The competitor’s stock value will boost because of the acquisition, making them all a huge profit and shielding them from enormous loss.”

Swallowing hard, Iwaizumi croaks, “Holy shit. They’re artificially deflating the stocks to make the buyout cheaper and more lucrative, and all their small-time investors are going to lose everything.”

Tokugawa nodded. “Yes, they are, and I would very much like to keep that from happening. I wouldn’t keep you so late if it weren’t very important to identify the fraudulent transactions and report them to the trade commission.”

Iwaizumi hummed in agreement. “And you’re doing it all on paper because somebody else here knows about this, and looking up all the Fujiyama transactions might alert them if they’re doing any sort of electronic surveillance.”

“Exactly.” Tokugawa patted a stack of folders and smiled. “But the Print All function is just that, and nobody would be looking for it. It takes longer, but since I’m old and eccentric, it’s not strange for me to do it.”

Fighting back a smirk at Tokugawa’s wily methods, Iwaizumi glanced at the files he’d already worked and said, “So now I have to go through all the ones I already did and pull out the fishy ones, right?”

“Right.” Tokugawa leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. “When the chips fall, being involved in this sting will do great things for your career. Investors will line up to do business only with you because they’ll trust you, and that’s not something you find every day in the financial sector.”

Breath caught in his chest at the prospect of being vaulted toward the top, Iwaizumi clenched his hands around the armrests of his chair. “That would change my life, sir. I could work here for years and never get that kind of exposure.”

Tokugawa shrugged. “You would eventually because you’re good at this, but this is definitely a fast track. Takatsuki-sama is on board with the idea, as well.”

“So Takatsuki-sama knows about all of this? Is that why he’s in LA?”

Tokugawa hummed. “The company trying to buy out Fujiyama is based there, so the American Trade Commission is involved, as well.”

“Oh, man, what a mess.” Iwaizumi picked up a stack of folders he knew had a slew of transactions he had to pull out. “Looks like we’ve got a lot more work to do.”

“That we do.” Tokugawa once again pulled out his decanter of whisky, but this time, he poured two glasses and handed one to Iwaizumi. “I hope you’re up for another long night or two to seal this thing up by tonight, because I’ll be damned if I’m going to lose the only time I ever get to spend with my wife to corporate espionage.”

Iwaizumi smiled to himself. That at least explained why Tokugawa didn’t partake in the palatial suites in the building. He just wanted to go home to his wife, and he thought he might do the same if their positions were reversed. 

However, as he moved through the mountain of papers, Iwaizumi’s thoughts strayed to Ushijima, who was right in the middle of a huge debacle he probably knew nothing about. The only reason he could foresee that Takatsuki would want extra security around him was that he knew there was danger involved in exposing this plot. 

That unpleasant thought made Iwaizumi’s skin crawl. While he and Ushijima were tentatively friends at best, the idea of his loyalty  _ and _ his body being used to shield someone else from danger did not sit well. But because it was in his contract and also because of the favorable relationship he had with the Takatsukis, Iwaizumi knew Ushijima would not hesitate to do whatever he had to in order to protect the company’s CEO. 

Iwaizumi hated that idea even more than he had before when it had merely rankled.

“Either you’re mad at that pen, or you’re worried about your friend in security,” Tokugawa interjected, making Iwaizumi jolt to attention.

“Yeah, I’m —” Iwaizumi massaged his aching wrists and lowered his head. His confession was not just for Tokugawa, but for himself, as well. “Ushijima is a good guy who doesn’t really have anybody from what I can tell. Honestly, I wonder if he thinks nobody would miss him if he got hurt or worse.”

Tokugawa topped off Iwaizumi’s drink and remarked, “Well, it seems he has you.”

Iwaizumi turned that thought over in his head as he threw himself back into his work, the burn of the alcohol easing his cramped muscles and dulling the ache in his back. He couldn’t remember the last time he had drank in the middle of the day, but he wasn’t going to turn down the artificial relaxation it brought with it.

Lunch was once again delivered and then dinner, heralding yet another late night that plodded on until almost eleven when they were finished at last and a report had been filed with the trade commission. This time, Iwaizumi didn’t even question where they were going when Tokugawa steered them toward the executive elevator. He texted his mother on the way that he would be gone another night. In a fit of curiosity, however, as the elevator was headed to the third floor, Iwaizumi decided to message Ushijima, as well.

_ Is everything all right? The phrase ‘needs extra security’ is kind of making me nervous, and I just want to know if you’re okay. _

Tokugawa let Iwaizumi into his usual suite before bidding him goodnight. He didn’t bother to leave his laundry out for cleaning, sprawling on the bed fully clothed and almost asleep the moment his head hit the surface. This time, he could sleep as long he liked because he had the next two days off. However, he was shaken back to consciousness by his phone’s vibration.

He swatted at the screen until his fingers made contact with the answer button, holding it up to his face as he mumbled a hazy, “Hello?”

“You should be asleep,” came Ushijima’s deep, rumbling voice. “Have you been able to move in yet?”

“Nah.” Iwaizumi yawned loudly. “Dude, I haven’t even been home in three days. Tokugawa-san has me staying in one of those fancy executive suites because by the time we’re done with what we’re working on, I’m too tired to make it home.”

Ushijima fell quiet, and Iwaizumi blew into his phone receiver to make sure they didn’t get disconnected. “You still there?”

“Yes. I’m just curious. Usually, those rooms are reserved to protect certain individuals targeted by malicious outside organizations for not giving in to their demands.”

The sleep lingering in Iwaizumi’s brain vanished in an instant. Sitting bolt upright, he demanded, “They  _ what _ ?” He plunged a hand into his hair and pulled at it, his mouth twisting as he fought the urge to throw up. “If someone’s coming after me because of this insider trading thing and I’m stashed away in here, nothing’s stopping them from going after Mom or Ryou instead.”

Iwaizumi was already out of bed, shoving his feet back into his slippers. He pounded at the elevator’s down button until the doors finally saw fit to open. Pacing the narrow breadth of the elevator, Iwaizumi almost forgot about the phone in his hand until it rang once again.

Ushijima’s name came up as the contact, and Iwaizumi answered with a sigh of, “Damn, dude, I’m sorry. I’m just . . . what am I supposed to do? Mom and Ryou are all I have, and if something happens to them because of something I did, I wouldn’t even know how to live with myself.”

“I’ll take care of it. I’m putting you on hold.” Ushijima’s words were flat and matter-of-fact, a tone Iwaizumi had long tied to his ex-rival. It was the same authoritative demeanor Ushijima had employed when he had stated his intention to crush his opponents before going out and doing exactly that. Years before, or maybe even a month before, Iwaizumi would have found it irritating, but the certainty of it gave him a level of comfort he didn’t know he could have after what he had just heard.

A few minutes later, the line flared back to life. “Iwaizumi?”

“Yeah.” Iwaizumi held his breath.

“A car will be out front in five minutes. They’ll take you home and keep watch until someone either comes to relieve them or I tell them otherwise.”

Exhaling heavily, Iwaizumi murmured, “Thank you. I don’t know who to trust anymore because of what’s going on. This is way above my pay grade. I wish Tokugawa-san had just  _ told _ me someone might come after me over this.”

Ushijima hummed. “Has Tokugawa-san left the building yet?”

“Yeah, he left after he dropped me off at the suite.” Iwaizumi exited the elevator and hustled through the vacant bullpen that seemed so much smaller than it had that morning. “Wanted to spend the weekend with his wife.”

“I’ll make sure he’s contacted immediately and given round the clock security. You stay on the lookout, and call me when you get home.”

“Will do.” Iwaizumi leaned against the pillar in the lobby next to the front doors, his eyes closing in a mix of weariness and relief. “Really, thank you. I owe you one, man.”

“Stay safe, Iwaizumi. I’ll be home as soon as I can.”

“Yeah, you too.” The call ended, and Iwaizumi exited the building with a ton of weight off his shoulders. 


	5. Rude Awakenings

By the time the car pulled up to the curb in front of Iwaizumi’s apartment building, he was fast asleep and had to be shaken awake by one of his escorts. “Iwaizumi-san, you should go right inside.”

“Yeah, yeah, I —” He yawned and rubbed his eyes. “Yeah, I’m coming.” With a groan, he wrestled himself from the backseat of the car and stretched his limbs. “So, uh, are you guys staying out here or what?”

The one who had ridden in the back seat with him — Fujita, maybe? — stood at attention on the curb. He replied, “Ushijima-san prefers that one of us stay with you at all times, but he said it’s up to you whether you let us into your unit.”

Iwaizumi felt yet another rush of gratitude for Ushijima for considering his feelings on the matter, but his feelings meant nothing against the prospect of his family’s safety. “For tonight, stay out here, but in the morning, I want to give them a chance to know we’re having guests. Strangers in the house this late at night might freak them out, you know?”

The driver, who Iwaizumi did remember as Aoki, nodded. “Understandable. We should be able to keep a tight enough visual from outside for now. Just in case, we recommend that you keep some sort of defensive weapon nearby. A tire iron, a hammer, a baseball bat —”

“Gotcha.” Shuddering at the prospect of Ryouta’s bat being used for anything but baseballs, Iwaizumi headed for the building and made the long climb up the stairs. His hands were clumsy from sleep as he fumbled with his keys, but finally the lock clicked and he turned the knob.

Years of athletic reflex kicked in and Iwaizumi reeled out into the hallway, his face a breath away from the wide arc of a baseball bat being swung right where his head had been a moment before. His heart pounded hard in his chest, and his eyes were wide as he took in the sight of his brother staring down at him across the barrel of an aluminum baseball bat.

“Jesus, Ryou, it’s just me,” Iwaizumi panted as he rubbed his shoulder, which he had roughly jammed into the hallway wall. “Why are you even awake? You have practice in six hours.”

Ryouta’s chest heaved as the bat drooped in his hand and clattered onto the floor. “Where the hell have you been?”

Iwaizumi hesitantly stepped through the threshold of the apartment, unsure whether he would be permitted to stay. After everything his younger brother had endured, he couldn’t say he would blame Ryouta for telling him to leave. Iwaizumi had promised to take care of them, and the first thing he did was say he was moving out and get embroiled in a mess that could get them hurt or worse.

Plunging his hands into his hair, Iwaizumi tugged until the roots screamed at him to stop, but he had to do something to make any of this feel real to him. Nothing was anchored in reality as he knew it, and he was so, so tired. 

He slumped against the doorway, his lungs straining to take in enough air despite his long gasping breaths, his vision blurring. Shaking, he didn’t hear his name being called until a strong pair of hands gripped his shoulders and rattled him back to life. “Hajime!”

Ryouta’s panicked face was right in front of Iwaizumi’s, and he was the one shaking him for all he was worth. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“I’m scared, Ryou,” Iwaizumi admitted. “I am scared as hell and I have no idea what the fuck to do about it.” He stumbled into the apartment and flopped onto the couch, staring at the blank television set as if it held all the answers. 

Sitting next to him, Ryouta leaned forward, crossing his arms over his knees. “You’ve never been scared of anything. Whatever it is has to be pants-shitting bad if  _ you’re  _ scared of it.”

“It is.” Iwaizumi exhaled heavily and gave Ryouta an abridged version of what had been going on for the past few days, and also that there were two armed guards watching their building like hawks.

“Shit,” Ryouta murmured as he processed it all. “And these jerks want you? Why not the guy telling you to do it?”

Iwaizumi shook his head. “I’m worried about that, too, but as it is, I’m a witness to a very expensive felony. I can’t risk letting them get to me by coming after you guys. It would kill me if anything happened to you or Mom.”

“So someone knows you’re looking for them, and now they’re gonna come looking for you.” Ryouta drooped back onto the couch. “Why didn’t you go into something boring, like drag racing or the yakuza?”

Their eyes met, and the tentative chuckle they shared eased the air between them.

“So when were you planning on telling me any of this, Hajime?”

Iwaizumi turned around to see his mother’s face crumple just before she burst into tears. He rushed from the couch to wrap his arms around her and hold her tight to his chest. “I’m sorry. This all blew up in my face, but someone we can trust is helping us out because I don’t have a clue what to do.”

“There was someone looking through the south window with binoculars earlier,” Rino whispered to him just low enough that Ryouta couldn’t hear. “I called the police and they said they’d look into it, but I don’t know what they can do.”

“God, wha —” Iwaizumi pulled his phone from his pocket and hit the speed dial he had assigned to Aoki earlier. “I’ll be right back.” He headed for the bathroom and locked himself in as the phone rang.

The call began with a standard, “Aoki.”

Iwaizumi held his hand over the receiver and murmured quietly, “My mom said she saw someone looking into our place with binoculars earlier. From the south window. She called the cops, but she doesn’t see how they can do anything since she couldn’t see who they were.”

“We’ll look into it right away, Iwaizumi-san. Stay inside, and don’t leave the apartment unless one of us or Ushijima-san says it’s safe.” He could hear Aoki call over to Fujita before giving a low synopsis of Iwaizumi’s story. The conversation ended, and Aoki’s voice once again filled the receiver at full volume. “Stay tight. We’re going to call for an extra set of hands or two to get this settled.”

Eyes closing as he sagged in relief, Iwaizumi said, “Thank you. Really.”

“Now get some sleep. All of you.”

“Yeah, will do.” Iwaizumi ended the call and headed back out to the living room, where Rino and Ryouta sat waiting anxiously for his return. “All right, everyone back to bed. I’ve had enough of this day, and I think you have, too.”

Rino nodded, but hung back while Ryouta headed for bed as instructed. “What did they say?”

“Not to leave the apartment for any reason until they say it’s safe, so Ryou can’t go to practice tomorrow. They’re gonna throw a couple extra guys on the search to make that happen sooner rather than later.” He sighed heavily. “Until then, I plan on doing exactly what they told me to do because I’m not good for anything else right now but making things worse.

“I’m going to bed.” With that, his feet acted of their own accord until he was standing at the foot of the bed he’d slept in since he could remember, and he dropped onto it face down and passed out.

He could feel the sun pouring into the room before he heard the sound of his name from a familiar source. His eyes craned open, and he saw Ushijima standing at the foot of his bed, his mouth cut into a grim line. “I’m sorry to wake you, but there’s something you need to know.” 

Iwaizumi pushed himself up onto his elbows, his suit jacket twisted around his midriff awkwardly and his trousers rucked up to his knees. “Wait, what?” He rubbed his eyes and gaped at Ushijima. “Aren’t you supposed to be on the other side of the world?”

Ushijima sat next to him as he struggled to scrape together some dignity. “As soon as I called you, I talked to Takatsuki-sama. I have new orders now, so I came back on the first flight out of Los Angeles.”

“Oh?” Iwaizumi shucked his jacket and started unbuttoning his shirt underneath, desperate to uncoil it from his body before he tore it off in annoyance. One button on his cuff refused to uncouple, and he growled, “Damn it.”

Ushijima reached over and deftly finished the task, but his gaze grew even more serious. “My new job is to protect you. I’m supposed to take you back to the estate and not let you leave unescorted — and preferably, not at all.”

“Is it really that serious?” Iwaizumi bit his lip, his fingers stuttering as he undid the other cuff. “So this isn’t just me spazzing out over something that’s out of my ballpark?”

Shaking his head, Ushijima hummed negative. “If it hadn’t been serious yesterday, it is now, which is what I have to tell you.” He pulled out his phone and opened the browser to an already loaded article, handing it to Iwaizumi.

The breath was snatched from his chest as he read, and something hard and heavy lodged in his throat as he tried to swallow. “No,” he said, pled,  _ demanded _ . “No no no no no.” The phone clattered to the floor along with the damning pictures on the screen, and Iwaizumi buried his face in his hands. “This can’t be happening.”

“The brake lines were cut,” Ushijima said flatly as he picked up his phone and closed out the window detailing a near-fatal single car wreck late the night before. “That was kept from the news report, but the police are investigating and so are we. That’s why you have to be protected over everything.”

Iwaizumi’s eyes pricked with tears. They were tears of guilt because it wasn’t him, of grief for someone who deserved better, and of anger that someone did this over something as stupid as  _ money _ . The thought that if he went into work on Monday and Tokugawa wouldn’t be there made him ache on the inside, but it was his new reality because Tokugawa was in a coma and the article had said a recovery ‘was not impossible but unexpected.’ 

He knew tears were streaming down his face, but he didn’t care if Ushijima could see them. It was too much — way too much — and this was all he could manage, to cry for the mentor he might never see again. The mentor who had risked his life to do the right thing. 

With a choked sob, Iwaizumi dropped his forehead on Ushijima’s shoulder, desperate for some form of contact. Rino and Ryouta weren’t in the room, presumably to give Ushijima a private audience and probably to keep from worrying them, so he reached out for the only thing in the room that felt normal, and his arms wrapped around Ushijima’s solid bicep.

“I’m sorry,” Ushijima said softly, his hand coming up to rub Iwaizumi’s back. “I don’t know what to say. I’m not good at this.”

Sniffling, Iwaizumi said into Ushijima’s shirt, “I’m glad you’re here. I don’t know who to trust anymore.”

Ushijima’s hand gave Iwaizumi’s arm a squeeze. “I’m happy you trust me. I just wish it were under different circumstances.”

“So do I.” Iwaizumi held onto Ushijima’s arm until he could feel some semblance of control once again, and to his credit, Ushijima let him have all the time he needed. There were no empty platitudes or irritation, only patience and understanding. These were qualities he never would have seen in Ushijima years before, but they were real and present and exactly what he needed.

Iwaizumi pulled away, wiping his face on his sleeve before shedding his button-up and heading for the pile of boxes in the corner that Rino had thankfully had the forethought to label. He pried open one labeled Clothes and fished around until he found a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, and he quickly shed what was left of his work wardrobe onto the floor in favor of those. 

When he turned around, he noticed Ushijima looking pointedly in the other direction. “I know it’s been a while, but I’m pretty sure you’ve seen another dude in his underwear before. It’s not creepy, and it doesn’t bother me.”

Ushijima’s cheeks colored and didn’t turn to face Iwaizumi. “It’s inappropriate. You may be comfortable with it, but I am not.”

“Fair enough. It’s safe to look, by the way.” Iwaizumi balled up his discarded suit and shirt and crammed them back into the box. “So, um, moving?”

Nodding, Ushijima said, “For now, just take what you need for a night or two, but I’ll send someone I know can be trusted over to get the rest of it.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Iwaizumi grabbed a duffel bag from the closet and harrumphed when he saw Ushijima’s gaze fall on it in surprise. “It’s Ryou’s, but he doesn’t use it. He goes to school there.”

“The baseball program has always been good.” Ushijima bobbed his head in approval. “I see what you mean when you mentioned he could go pro.”

Cramming the last few things he wanted into the bag, Iwaizumi barked a laugh. “I feel like I should be offended by that. Say what you will about Aobajousai’s volleyball against Shiratorizawa’s, but nobody’s going to tell you Shiratorizawa’s baseball team isn’t miles better. I could hit a ball farther than Seijou’s cleanup during my third year, and I didn’t even play every day.”

Ushijima chuckled into his fist. “I imagine you were good at a lot of things. You seem like the type.”

“Lies,” Iwaizumi fired back, but there was no malice in his tone. “Oikawa told me what you said about us. You called us weak.”

Ushijima’s good humor melted away, and he hung his head. “I said a lot of things back then, things I regret. That’s one of the ones I have always wished I could take back.”

Iwaizumi hummed. “Well, pissing off Oikawa has its pros and —”

“I don’t mean Oikawa.” Ushijima looked over at Iwaizumi, his face a mask of emotion Iwaizumi could not quite discern. “There was a lot I could have learned from watching you. Oikawa may have been the strongest mind on the team, but you were the heart and the backbone. That was something I never was for my team the way you were for yours, and we missed out on Nationals because I didn’t want to see it.”

“Dude, I —” Iwaizumi blinked, the bag falling to the floor by his feet. “You really mean that?”

“Does anyone look back at their eighteen year old self and  _ not _ regret every word he said?” Their eyes met, and they both said in unison, “Oikawa.”

“Yeah, I meant it,” Ushijima finished, standing and heading for the door. “I’ll meet you outside whenever you’re ready. I imagine you’d like to talk to your family in private.”

“Thanks, yeah.” 

Ushijima left, and Iwaizumi tentatively headed for the bathroom to grab a few necessities. In the living room, Rino and Ryouta sat side by side on the couch, their faces stony. Ryouta was slouched back into the cushions and Rino sitting rigidly upright.

“Hey, uh, I have to go,” Iwaizumi blurted, closing his eyes in irritation at his lack of tact. “There’ll be guys watching the house, and I’ll see what I can do to get you guys paroled. The boss wants me at the main house, and Ushijima’s going to keep me safe.”

“Can you really trust any of those people, Hajime?” Rino asked quietly. “If they know where you live, that means they have access to your personnel records. Whoever might be coming after you works for your company, don’t they?”

Iwaizumi contemplated denying it, but his mother deserved better than that. “Yeah. Probably someone in the IT department.”

Rino looked up at him, and Iwaizumi’s chest clenched uncomfortably at the sight of the fear written on her face. “And what about him?” She gave a pointed look the door where Ushijima had left just minutes before. “Can you trust him?”

“Yes.” There wasn’t too much Iwaizumi knew for certain, but he had no doubt in his mind whatsoever that Ushijima was on his side and would take care of him and his family. “He’s the one person I know I  _ can _ trust, and if he picks someone for guard detail, it means he trusts them, too, and that’s good enough for me.”

“Okay.” Rino edged up on the tips of her toes and kissed Iwaizumi’s forehead. “Be careful, sweetie.”

Iwaizumi took Rino’s hand in his and gave it a squeeze. “I will.” He cast a glance over at Ryouta, who had not moved as long as Iwaizumi had been in the room. “Take care of Mom, Ryou. This will all be over soon.”

“Yeah.” Ryouta did not break his blank stare. “See you.”

The emptiness in Ryouta’s tone made Iwaizumi’s skin itch, but he knew there was nothing he could do to remedy the situation, nor could he blame his brother for his hostility. His only option was to give Ryouta space and hope like hell that he understood later on. Iwaizumi’s throat was tight as he closed the door behind him.

“You look disturbed,” Ushijima remarked from his spot near the door.

“I am.” Iwaizumi ran his fingers through his hair and sighed. “Ryou’s really upset, and so is Mom. I don’t know how I’m gonna fix this.”

Ushijima took the lead toward the stairwell. “They’ll understand. Maybe not now, but give it time.” His hand paused on the handrail as he added, “Family is difficult sometimes.”

The catch in Ushijima’s voice did not go unnoticed. Iwaizumi combed through everything he knew about Ushijima, but he had no information on his family situation. “Sounds like you speak from experience,” he said, more curious than he thought he would be about Ushijima’s upbringing.

“I do.” Ushijima’s hand tightened around the rail until his knuckles turn white. But then the tension leaked from his stature, and his hand slipped down to his side. “They care about you, Iwaizumi. They may need time to process.”

They finished the trip to the car waiting outside in silence, and neither spoke until they were well on their way back to the Takatsuki estate. At last, the question brewing in Iwaizumi’s mind became too noisy to ignore. “You said family is difficult. Mind if I ask what yours is like?”

“Traditional.” Ushijima’s statement was flat and matter-of-fact.

It didn’t take Iwaizumi long to realize why. “Are they giving you shit because you’re gay?”

Ushijima crossed his arms. “My father had to beg my grandparents to let me stay left-handed. I’m sure you can imagine how other  _ abnormalities _ are handled.”

“Oh, that sucks.” Iwaizumi felt a pang of remorse for bringing up the subject, but the damage was already done. He couldn’t help but indulge his curiosity further. “So is your dad okay with it, then? It must be good to have  _ someone  _ get it.” Ushijima’s jaw clenched, and Iwaizumi realized he had just dredged up yet another unpleasant memory. “Forget it. I shouldn’t have stuck my nose in your business.”

“I haven’t seen my father since I was a child,” Ushijma admitted, his eyes closing as he sank into the back seat. “I have his number even though I’ve never called him, but it doesn’t matter what he thinks because he’s not here.”

Now that was something Iwaizumi definitely understood. “Yeah. My old man left us when I was fourteen. Ryou was only six at the time so he barely remembers him, but I’ll never forget.” A cold shiver ran down his spine when memories of the last few months his father had been around began to surface. “Nasty son of a bitch. He messed around with a bunch of different women behind Mom’s back, and she just told herself that it could always be worse.”

“It got worse,” Ushijima finished, his mouth tugging into a grim line. “I’m sorry that happened. Nobody deserves to be treated like they’re not good enough.”

“Never thought I’d hear  _ you _ say that.”

Ushijima bristled, crossing his arms and staring down the back of the seat in front of him, and Iwaizumi knew he had hit a nerve. Unwilling to sacrifice the progress they’ve made in building a new and better relationship, Iwaizumi relented. “C’mon, man, I know you’re different. I shouldn’t have said it like that. Sorry, dude.” When Ushijima didn’t respond, Iwaizumi reached up and cupped his cheek, turning his head so they could look each other in the eye. “Ushijima, seriously, I’m sorry.”

For a tense moment, Ushijima’s face was an expressionless mask, but it slowly and surely slipped into a soft smile. “I know.”

This time, their silence was a companionable one while the rest of the journey passed. At the main house, they were met by a small contingent of security personnel by the gate, and Iwaizumi watched in bafflement as they circled around him before leading the procession through the grounds.

“Is this really necessary?” Iwaizumi hissed in Ushijima’s direction, but the nod he received in reply added an uncomfortable reminder of why they were here.

When they reached the back entrance of the house, his escort broke formation and stayed at the door while Iwaizumi and Ushijima headed up the stairs. Iwaizumi didn’t realize he had been balling his hands into fists until the moment they crossed the threshold and he let his bag drop to the floor. He shucked his shoes and sank into the couch with a groan. “Man, I need a day off.”

Ushijima sat next to him and leaned over to grab the remote off of the kotatsu. “Is there anything in particular you want to watch?”

“Nah,” Iwaizumi started, but his eyes lit up when he remembered what he had found the last time he was there. “Wait, yeah. Let’s watch that.” He pointed at the anime box set under the tv. “I haven’t watched that in forever.”

At the mention of it, Ushijima’s entire face transformed when he gave Iwaizumi a broad smile. He left the couch and got the first disc started, but instead of rejoining Iwaizumi, he stepped into the next room before returning five minutes later. Finally, he sat next to Iwaizumi on the couch and curled his feet underneath him while he avidly watched the show.

Iwaizumi couldn’t believe the disparity between the gruff guy carting him around everywhere and the almost childlike glee at something as simple as a typical shounen anime. He found his attention straying more often than not to Ushijima, whose eyes were glued to the screen. 

However, his stare was interrupted by a brisk knock at the door. Iwaizumi tensed, but Ushijima seemed at ease as he padded over to the door to answer it. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes when he saw it was one of the house staffers bearing a tray. Ushijima took the tray and headed back for the kotatsu, putting it in front of both of them.

On cue, Iwaizumi’s stomach growled as he looked at the twin bowls of ramen that looked like they came from a restaurant and not a home kitchen. “Eat,” Ushijima urged, sitting on the floor and taking one of the bowls for himself. Iwaizumi didn’t need any further prompting, and a quick blessing kicked off a satisfying meal.

With a full belly and the growing warmth of the late spring afternoon, Iwaizumi felt his eyelids drooping, and he soon nodded off, his head slouching onto Ushijima’s shoulder as he felt a modicum of peace for the first time since all of this had started.


	6. Locked Away

The sun was setting by the time Iwaizumi cracked his eyes open. A feeling of warmth lingered over his entire being, only to find he was covered in the kotatsu blanket while burrowed into Ushijima’s side. Arm wrapped around Iwaizumi’s shoulders, Ushijima slouched against the couch while he watched the tv. 

Iwaizumi craned his neck to look at Ushijima, who was mesmerized by the animated match happening on screen. He bit back a yawn, and the sound shook Ushijima from his reverie. “What time is it?”

Ushijima’s arm was gone in an instant, and the soft concentration on his face slipped away. “You were sliding onto the floor. It’s bad for your back.”

“Right.” Iwaizumi observed Ushijima’s hastily offered excuse and declined to remark on the tinge of pink dusting Ushijima’s cheeks. Instead, he turned his attention back to the television. “I thought we watched this one already?”

Nodding, Ushijima stood and crossed the room to the dvd player. “I didn’t want to wake you, so I started it over again.” He changed to the next disc and returned to the couch. “Unless you would rather watch something else.”

“No, this is great.” Iwaizumi groaned as he hoised himself back on the couch, not ignorant of the fact that Ushijima was sitting as far away from him as the finite seating space would allow. “Sorry I was hanging all over you. I don’t want to weird you out or anything.” He gave a wry laugh. “I kind of used to do that to Oikawa all the time when we were watching game footage. Never had the attention span to just sit and watch.”

His rigid posture easing somewhat, Ushijima hummed in agreement. “Neither did I. Why pick apart weaknesses when you can just power through them.”

Iwaizumi chortled. “Yeah, well not all of us are built like a dump truck. Instinct was more my thing.”

Ushijima’s brow wrinkled, his arms crossed and lips pursed. Finally, he asked, “Did you just call me fat?”

“No!” Iwaizumi shook his head adamantly. “That’s not what I mean, I —” He paused when he saw something dangerously close to a smirk on Ushijima’s face. With a huff, Iwaizumi said, “You’re screwing with me.”

He wasn’t prepared for the wide, toothy smile, nor the deep and melodic chuckle from Ushijima as his shoulders shook with mirth. “Maybe a little. I’m not always so serious, you know.”

Iwaizumi’s breath caught when he noticed the way Ushijima’s typical stern demeanor melted completely away, leaving in its wake someone far less reserved. “Yeah,” he breathed, unable to press out more than a syllable. Not at all familiar or comfortable with these new observations, he faced forward and focused his attention solely on the show.

Next to him, Ushijima seemed to notice that Iwaizumi was unsettled. “You seem . . . bothered,” he observed, making Iwaizumi’s hands clench into fists on his thighs.

“No, um —” Iwaizumi took a deep breath and amended, “Yeah.” He looked over at Ushijima and said bluntly, “I can’t figure you out. Every time I think I finally know who you are, you do something like —” He scoffed. “I don’t even know what I’m saying.”

“I want you to know more about me,” Ushijima said softly, “just like I want to know more about you.”

A smile worked its way to Iwaizumi’s lips. “Fair enough. Favorite color?”

“Green. You?”

“Red.” Iwaizumi scratched his chin. “Green makes sense, since you like plants and stuff.” He hummed as he thought of his next question. “Birthday?”

“August 13th.”

“June 10th. Favorite food?”

“Hayashi rice.” Ushijima leaned closer, and Iwaizumi found himself listing forward in kind. “I prefer beef to pork.”

Their faces mere centimeters apart, Iwaizumi murmured, “Makes sense. Your name literally means cow, so —” He swallowed hard. “Agedashi tofu, with extra mirin. I like mirin.”

His breaths came in short, urgent bursts while his heart beat loudly in his ears, and every nerve in his body demanded to close that gap between them, to take that next step to someplace he hasn’t been in a long time. Iwaizumi saw Ushijima’s eyelids grow heavy, long lashes sweeping over his sun-kissed cheeks, and it made him shiver. Closing his own eyes, Iwaizumi edged closer and closer until their mouths were almost touching.

The tinny blare of Iwaizumi’s phone snapped the moment, and Iwaizumi could feel Ushijima backing away to his own side of the couch. “Damn it.” He jammed his hand into his pocket, pulling out his phone to check who had the worst timing in the world. “Figures.” He answered the call and said, “What do you want, Shittykawa?”

“Rude!” Oikawa protested loudly enough for Iwaizumi to pull the phone away from his ear. “You don’t call me for a month, and  _ I’m  _ the shitty one?”

Iwaizumi sighed, and he could feel his heart slowly gearing down to a reasonable pace. “Yeah, I know. I’m sorry, Oikawa. It’s just — I’ve had some really crazy shit going on, and I haven’t had a chance to do normal stuff like laundry, let alone phone calls.”

He could see Ushijima tense across the couch before standing up. “I’ll leave you alone.”

“Wait!” Iwaizumi reached out in vain to keep Ushijima from walking away, and all he wanted to do was go after him. “Goddamnit.”

“What’s going on, Iwa-chan? Who was that?” Oikawa waited for a response that never came, but a few moments later, he squawked, “Are you with  _ Ushiwaka-chan _ ?”

Tugging at the tips of his hair, Iwaizumi reeled back into the cushions of the couch and stared blankly at the ceiling. “God, things are so messed up.”

Oikawa quieted before he softly urged, “Are you okay?”

“I’ve been better.” Iwaizumi let out a shuddering breath and dumped the entire story of his past week into the receiver. “Well?”

“You, Iwaizumi Hajime, faithful sidekick to the eminent Oikawa-san —”

“Fat fucking chance.”

“— are living with  _ the _ Ushijima Wakatoshi, who you swore to hate as long as you live?”

“I just told you someone might want to kill me, and that’s what you take away?” Iwaizumi rolled his eyes. “Oh, and I’m pretty sure that was you. And that was a long time ago.”

“Not long enough.” 

He heard Oikawa huff, and it made him smile on reflex. “I’m glad you called. It’s been a shitty week, and it’s kind of nice to do something normal.”

He could almost feel Oikawa pout through the phone. “I’ll try not to take that as an insult.” 

“Oikawa, I —” Iwaizumi frowned and rubbed the nape of his neck. “I don’t even know how to start.” He stood and wandered across to the door leading to his new room, which is still bereft of everything but basic furniture. Prying open the closet, he sat on the floor of it and pulled his knees up to his chest. “I need advice, and don’t you dare be an asshole about it.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it!” Oikawa laughed through the phone, but when Iwaizumi did not respond, he fell quiet. “Wow, something really is bothering you.”

“Don’t you dare laugh.” Iwaizumi exhaled heavily and finally blurted, “How do you know you like someone?”

“How do you  _ not _ know?” Oikawa’s tone made Iwaizumi want to reach through the line and flick him in the ear, but he stifled his irritation and waited for Oikawa to finish. “If you’re even considering the question, you probably already know the answer.”

“I don’t know!” Iwaizumi cried. Tugging at his hair again, he admitted, “I’ve never liked anyone before.”

“What about Junko-chan from first year?”

Iwaizumi shrugged to no one in particular. “ _ She _ asked  _ me  _ out, but I never accepted.”

“So, you never checked out the cheerleaders or —” Oikawa cleared his throat. “— maybe any of the other boys in the locker room?”

“Now that’s just fucking creepy, Oikawa. Forget I asked.” He pulled away from the phone, and just as his thumb was about to hit the End Call button, he heard Oikawa yell, “Wait, Iwa-chan!”

Banging the back of his head on the wall of the closet, Iwaizumi groaned, “If you’re just gonna keep being a dick, I’m hanging up.”

Oikawa grumbled under his breath. “You’re not giving me anything to work with. If you want to know if you like someone, I need more information. So spill.”

“God I hate it when you’re right.” Pinching the bridge of his nose to stave off the headache beginning to sprout there, Iwaizumi said, “So, it’s someone I don’t mind doing normal, boring stuff with because it doesn’t seem boring with them. You know, like lunch and tv and just . . .  _ being  _ there with them.”

“Still cagey, but I can work with it.” Oikawa hummed and grew silent for a long, awkward stretch before he finally offered, “So, it’s a guy, right?”

Iwaizumi jammed the receiver up against his face and hissed, “How the hell do you know that?”

“Give me some credit, Iwa-chan. I’ve known you longer than  _ you’ve _ known you. If you liked girls, I’d know.” He harrumphed before he added, “Well, I don’t remember seeing you checking out guys, either, so it was kind of a shot in the dark.”

“Yeah, well bullseye.” Iwaizumi planted his face into his knees and yelled into his jeans. “What the hell is wrong with me? It’s just a crush. It shouldn’t be so hard to figure out.”

Oikawa hummed, “Aha. So you  _ do _ know you like him. You just don’t know what to do about it.”

“Why do I think I’m asking you!” Unable to keep his feet still, Iwaizumi stood and paced the length of the room. “I mean, this could be a terrible idea. We work together and we’re around each other a lot. I can’t just waltz in and mess that up, even if I did know whether he liked me back.”

Clucking his tongue, Oikawa said, “If you’re asking for my permission to date Ushiwaka-chan, you can just say it. I’m a big boy, Iwa-chan.”

“It sounds so much worse when you say it like that.” Iwaizumi slumped against the wall and slid to the floor. “I’m in trouble, Tooru.”

“But it’s the best kind of trouble, Hajime.” Oikawa chuckled. “I wish I could be there to see your face, all ugly and pouty while you’re trying to rack that poor little brain of yours.”

“Fuck off, Oikawa.”

“I love you, too, Iwa-chan, even if you do have bad taste.” He smacked his lips for a mock kiss. “You know what to do.”

Iwaizumi huffed. “Yeah, I do. Thanks, Oikawa.”

“Anytime, Iwa-chan. Now hang up and get him before I have to think about it anymore.”

Iwaizumi smiled as he ended the call, and he strode purposefully to the living room and looked around for Ushijima. Not seeing him in the common areas of the unit, he went over to softly knock on Ushijima’s door. “Hey, can I come in?”

“Of course.” 

He slid open the door slowly to find Ushijima sitting on the end of his bed, gripping a throw pillow in his arms as he stared down at it like it held the secrets of the universe. Iwaizumi couldn’t help the surge of red to his face at the prospect of what he was about to do.

“So, I have something to say.” Ushijima looked up with him, his face blank, and Iwaizumi almost turned around and fled the room. However, Oikawa’s words of encouragement had given him the strength to stay up and finish his piece. “I don’t know how else to say this, so if you wanna punch me afterward, feel free.”

With that, Iwaizumi strode over to pluck the pillow out of Ushijima’s grasp, straddled his lap, and smashed their lips together for an urgent kiss. He buried his fingers in Ushijima’s soft hair, swallowing the groan he elicited as he pulled on the strands. Starving for something that had nothing to do with food, his mouth moved against Ushijima’s until they both had to pull apart to catch their breath.

“So yeah,” Iwaizumi panted. “That’s — that’s what I wanted to say.” His hands slid down the lean column of Ushijima’s neck until they gripped the lapels of his jacket. His breath hitched in his throat as their gazes met. “You have nice eyes.”

Ushijima plucked his bottom lip with his teeth as he looked Iwaizumi up and down. “Are you sure this is what you want?”

Iwaizumi let out a wry chuckle. “I don’t know jack. I don’t know what’s gonna happen with this thing at work, and I don’t have any idea how I’m supposed to act right now. All I know is I wanted to do that, so I did.” He feathered one last kiss onto Ushijima’s lips. “The ball’s in your court now.”

Hands reached up and wrapped around Iwaizumi’s and brought them to Ushijima’s mouth, lips brushing against them. “Once you’re safe, ask me again.”

Their foreheads touched, and with a harsh exhale, Iwaizumi slid off of Ushijima’s lap and sat next to him on the bed. “You’re probably right. Nothing like a little bit of danger to make you do something stupid.”

“It wasn’t stupid.” Ushijima leaned forward, propping his elbows on his thighs. “Just . . . surprising.”

“Yeah.” Iwaizumi bumped his shoulder against Ushijima’s and said, “I just didn’t want you to think I was, you know, uninterested.”

Ushijima looked over at him, brow raised. “I wasn’t aware you liked men.”

“Neither did I.” Iwaizumi harrumphed. “I’ve never been interested in anyone like this before. I don’t know what to call it, to be honest, but I’m willing to roll with it if you are.”

Ushijima’s fingers steepled, and he stared across the breadth of the room in quiet contemplation. Iwaizumi fought the urge to squirm at the lack of response, but it wasn’t his decision to make and every scrap of decency in him reminded him of that.

Finally, Ushijima said, “Once this is all over and we go back to our normal lives, are you still going to feel the same? Am I just a phase or an experiment to you, something convenient because you don’t know what will happen?” He stood up and turned around to meet Iwaizumi’s slack-jawed gaze. “When you have your answer, I’ll have mine.”

With that, Ushijima strode out toward the living room, calling over his shoulder, “I’ll send out for dinner.”

Iwaizumi vaulted off the bed and chased down Ushijima. “Hey, wait.” At Ushijima’s questioning look, he took a deep breath and pushed forward. “You’re right, and I promise I won’t do that again. Just —” He eyed the kitchenette on the other side of the living room. “Let me do something for you for a change. I’ll cook.”

“I’ll join you.” Ushijima headed toward the kitchenette and ran a hand across the breadth of the counter. “I rather enjoy it.”

“Yeah, that’ll be great.” Iwaizumi gave a tight smile before opening the refrigerator and seeing what there was to work with.

In no time, they had a decent repast on its way to completion, but there was not quite enough conversation to keep Iwaizumi’s mind from curling back to his rash actions moments before. Every time he recalls climbing all over Ushijima, his hand tightened around the handle of the knife in his hand. 

He had been fully aware of Ushijima’s struggles to find acceptance, as well as the forced solitude of this apartment, and the first thing Iwaizumi had done was exploit that. It didn’t matter if it had been unintentional; the damage was done. And now he was left with feelings he couldn’t rightfully identify and a budding relationship that could have been permanently damaged by his impetuous act.

Halfway through dishing out finished rice onto plates, Iwaizumi dropped the spoon into the pot and said, “This is nuts.” He turned to Ushijima, who looked at him in askance, and blurted, “I’m sorry.”

“Oh?” Ushijima resumed his previous activity, doling out stir-fried vegetables atop the rice. 

Iwaizumi rooted around drawers until he found a stash of chopsticks, taking out two sets and laying them down on the kotatsu. “Yeah.” He bustled back into the kitchen area and grabbed two bottles of green tea from the refrigerator while Ushijima carried the plates.

When they sat down, Iwaizumi sighed and said, “I took advantage of you, and I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.” Ushijima murmured a blessing and set into his food, seemingly unfazed by the apology.

“No, it’s not.” Iwaizumi sat next to Ushijima, but he slumped back against the couch, his appetite squelched by guilt and shame. “You gave me your trust and I took advantage of it, and that’s not the kind of guy I want to be. I shouldn’t have kissed you, it was wrong, and I’m sorry I did that to you.”

Ushijima set his chopsticks on the rim of his plate and turned to face Iwaizumi. “If it bothers you that much, then so be it. I accept.” He raised his hand and tilted Iwaizumi’s chin up until their eyes met. “Consider the matter closed. I already have.”

Pink tinged Iwaizumi’s cheeks, and he turned away to stuff a large bite into his mouth. Once he swallowed, he shot Ushijima a look and said, “Stop being cool about stuff. It’s gross.”

“As you wish,” Ushijima replied, but there was a hint of a smile lingering as they both resumed their meal in a companionable silence.

After dinner ended and the dishes were cleaned and put away, Iwaizumi looked around and hummed. “So, uh, now what?”

Ushijima picked a book from a short shelving unit near the television and sat on the couch. “What do you usually do with your free time?”

“Help clean the apartment, see however many of Ryou’s games I can manage.” Iwaizumi harrumphed. “Sleep.”

Thumbing through the book, Ushijima said, “Well, your brother isn’t playing today and you already slept. The apartment is clean enough. I suggest you find a hobby.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Iwaizumi wandered over to the bookshelf and chortled when he saw the titles. “You’re, uh, really into the shounen sports stuff.”

Ushijima hummed in agreement, not looking up from the page. “It’s relevant to my interests.”

Iwaizumi gave up his quest for diversion and headed back for the couch. He clicked through the channels until he stumbled upon the science fiction network and grinned. “Hell yeah.” Still smiling, he lay down in anticipation for a monster movie marathon featuring remastered cinematic cuts of the original Godzilla films.

Halfway through the second movie, Iwaizumi’s eyelids grew heavy and he burrowed his face into the plush upholstery. A gentle hand stroked his hair as he gave into the pull of sleep.

When he awakened, Iwaizumi’s head rested on something solid and very warm. Groaning, he muttered, “Mom, make sure Ryou packs his bento.”

His words drew a grunt from his makeshift pillow, and Iwaizumi opened his eyes to find a yawning Ushijima rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “You should go to bed.”

Iwaizumi sat up and stretched his limbs. “Uh, sorry I keep falling asleep on you.” He yawned loudly. “Crap, this whole week has been exhausting. I’ve never been so tired in my life.” With a groan, he hoisted himself off the couch and padded toward his new room and the unfamiliar bed inside of it. “Going to bed. See you in the morning.”

Soon, he was changed and ready for bed, but as he climbed in and under the covers, there was a knock on the door. “Yeah?”

Ushijima opened the door and wordlessly rolled out a futon and dropped a pillow on the floor. Iwaizumi sat up, blinking in surprise as Ushijima lay down on the futon and pulled the blanket over himself. “Uh, what are you doing?”

“My job.” Ushijima burrowed into the covers and wrapped his arms around his pillow. “Good night.”

“Suit yourself. Good night.”

When Iwaizumi woke, dawn was just trickling into the room.  He dropped his groggy legs over the side of the bed and pulled the covers back, running his fingers through his wild hair as he stumbled toward the door in search of the restroom. 

It was a mere second from when his foot struck an obstacle on the floor to when he found himself on his back, pinned down by his throat with a fist hovering over his face. Eyes wide and any scrap of sleep roughly chased from his system by his starving lungs and pounding heart, Iwaizumi gaped up at Ushijima in a mix of horror and awe.

“Jesus, dude,” he gasped. 

The cold glitter of focus melted from Ushijima’s face, and he withdrew at once. “Are you all right?” He stood and helped Iwaizumi back to his feet. “It was a reflex. I’m sorry.”

“I see.” Gingerly touching where Ushijima’s palm has pressed down on his windpipe, he eyed his protector’s tightly coiled posture and realized right away why Ushijima held the position he did at such a young age. “At least I know you can kill a man with your bare hands,” he observed. “Good to know about a guy sleeping in the same room with me.”

Some of the tension lingering in Ushijima’s shoulders abated, and he let out a heavy breath. “I should be more careful. It’s been a while since I’ve shared a room.”

Iwaizumi nodded. “Well, at least I know to make sure I pee before going to bed. If I get up in the middle of the night, I might lose a friggin limb.”

Ushijima colored but stepped out of the way. “I will start breakfast.”

Soon after, they sat next to each other at the kotatsu, and Iwaizumi stared out across the room as he replayed the morning’s events over in his head. It hadn’t sunk in until then why Ushijima had chosen a career in security, but seeing how quickly he had gone from sleep to predation had answered that. “You’re good at it,” he said finally.

“What?”

“I guess I didn’t really think about it before,” Iwaizumi admitted. “But you react crazy fast, so I’m guessing you’re damn good at your job.”

Ushijima set down his chopsticks and took a sip of his tea. “I have to be. Takatsuki-sama’s life might depend on it someday.” He set down his up and looked over at Iwaizumi. “Or yours.”

That thought chilled Iwaizumi as he finished his breakfast.

The rest of the day passed much like the previous one, with long bouts of television broken up by meals and a short walk through the gardens. It was easily Iwaizumi’s favorite part of the day, seeing the way the rigidity eased out of Ushijima just a little bit — enough to show the way his entire being was energized when he talked about the history and breeding of nearly every bloom.

“Wow, Ushijima, you’re really into this gardening stuff,” Iwaizumi remarked. He chuckled to himself as he added, “I’m picturing you in a big floppy straw hat and overalls, sitting in the dirt surrounded by flowers.”

Ushijima shrugged. “It tends to be how I spend my Sundays. Takako-sama gives me own space to do what I like with.” They moved farther down the garden to a patch of sunflowers forming a circle around a stone bench. “These sunflowers are ones I planted and care for.”

Iwaizumi entered the cove of flowers and sat on the bench. “These are incredible.”

“Thank you.” Ushijima sat next to him and drummed his fingers on his thighs. “We’re going to be spending a lot of time together, so if you’d like, you can use my given name. There’s no need for formalities unless you prefer it.”

“I, uh —” Iwaizumi looked over at Ushijima and said, “I’d like that.” He wrapped his tongue around the syllables. “Wakatoshi.”

A smile tugged at Ushijima’s mouth. “I got used to it at Shiratorizawa. Satori never did believe in boundaries.”

With no idea who this ‘Satori’ was, Iwaizumi nodded. “You can do the same if you want.”

“Hajime,” Ushijima tried out the name, and Iwaizumi couldn’t say he didn’t like the sound of it.

They sat together in companionable silence while Iwaizumi took in the fresh scent of the flowers all around them, uninterrupted until an unfamiliar voice called to them from the cobblestone path. “Good afternoon, gentlemen.”

Iwaizumi may not have heard his voice before, but he knew the face of his company’s CEO immediately. He shot to his feet and bowed. “Takatsuki-sama, pardon the intrusion.”

Takatsuki waved his hand and said, “Nonsense, young man. Please feel free to move around the grounds as you like. If I didn’t want you to feel at home here, you wouldn’t be.” He held out his hand and shook Ushijima’s hand. “Wakatoshi-kun. I see your charge is still in one piece.”

“Of course, sir.” Ushijima inclined his head to Takatsuki. “I trust your flight was uneventful.”

“Yes, it was, but enough about that.” Takatsuki’s face darkened and his voice lowered. “I’m very disturbed by what happened to Tokugawa. I trust I don’t have to remind you what’s at stake here.”

Ushijima looked over at Iwaizumi, and his expression softened. “No, you don’t. I know.”

Iwaizumi’s face warmed at Ushijima’s words, but he couldn’t put the images of a twisted wreck out of his mind. “Is Tokugawa-san doing any better?”

Frowning, Takatsuki shook his head. “It’s too early to tell. We’re flying in the best doctors in the world to do what they can for him, so if there is a way to save him, we’ll find it.”

“Thank you, sir.” Iwaizumi twisted his hands in front of him, acutely aware of his circumstances at the moment. Spending time with Ushijima had not felt like lockdown, but that was the reality of it. Whoever had known Tokugawa had uncovered the illicit trade patterns wouldn’t have to work hard to find out that Iwaizumi had helped him and was privy to the same information.

Takatsuki sighed. “Iwaizumi-kun, I assume you are aware of the role you’ll play in the trade commission’s investigation?” Iwaizumi nodded. “You’re the only witness left.”

“But the transactions are still on the server. I’m sure if I —”

“Not in time.” Takatsuki gritted his teeth and looked around before leaning closer to murmur, “Late last night, the firewall was breached and the transactions in question were wiped clean.”

Ushijima’s gaze was thunderous. “Why wasn’t I informed of this?”

“Consider yourself informed.” Takatsuki gave them both a smile and added, “Avail yourselves to anything in the house to pass the time. The hearing with the trade commission is tomorrow. It’s being expedited because of the scale of it, so expect a trial to start by next week.”

Iwaizumi blinked in surprise. “That fast?”

“I’m a powerful man, Iwaizumi-kun. If I want something to happen, it does.” Takatsuki clapped Ushijima on the shoulder. “Well, I’ll leave you two alone. You know what you have to do. I’ll make sure you’re notified of any relevant proceedings.”

“Yes, sir.” Ushijima bowed, and Takatsuki took his leave. 

Ushijima sat down once again when Takatsuki was out of earshot. “We should go back. I don’t like being in the open like this. Not now.”

The urgency in his voice made Iwaizumi shiver. “Isn’t this place supposed to be safe?”

“Nothing is absolute, and I cannot guarantee your safety without a controlled environment.” Ushijima gripped Iwaizumi’s wrist, tightly but without force. “Please.”

His earnestness wormed its way into Iwaizumi, and he relented. “All right. Let’s go back, but I’m opening the window.”

“Fine.”

They returned to the house and back to the void of activity that was their apartment, and Iwaizumi began to dread his stay there for the first time.


	7. Point Blank

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains gun violence, blood, and minor character death. If any of these themes disturb you, I recommend skipping the chapter. If you want to know what happens but can't bring yourself to read the sorts of themes on display, feel free to hunt me down on Tumblr and I'll give you a synopsis of the pertinent events.

The days dragged by, with Iwaizumi’s sanity only saved by frequent trips to the in-house gym and countless rounds of one on one basketball with Ushijima. He couldn’t remember sweating so much since his last training camp in high school, but for a few golden moments, it erased the apprehension following him around about the fact that someone mostly likely wanted him dead.

As predicted, the trials of those involved in the insider trading incidents commenced the following week, and Iwaizumi received the expected subpoena to give testimony about the contents of the few hard copies that had managed to survive Tokugawa’s car crash. A Trade Inc lawyer had visited the house every day to walk Iwaizumi through the available evidence, and by the time his testimony was scheduled, Iwaizumi could have talked about it in his sleep.

At last, Iwaizumi’s court appearance arrived, and he couldn’t get dressed fast enough to escape the grounds for the first time in weeks.

Iwaizumi’s anxious hands fumbled as he attempted to put on his tie until Ushijima gave him a questioning look and finished the task for him.

“You’re nervous,” Ushijima observed while tugging the tie knot into place.

“Yeah, no shit.” Iwaizumi loosened the newly placed knot enough to run a finger inside his collar and ward off the strange claustrophobia that seemed to cling to him that morning. “Sure, I want to get out of here finally, but if there  _ is _ someone who wants me dead, there are a thousand ways he can get to me nobody would ever plan for.”

Ushijima chuckled and strapped on his gun holster and covered it with his suit jacket. “You say that as if I can’t think of a thousand ways someone could kill you.”

Iwaizumi narrowed his eyes even over his burgeoning smile. “You could say that with a little less glee, you know.” His mirth drained when he saw Ushijima stow his flat black handgun into his jacket. “I still get the creeps knowing you have that thing on you.”

“I assure you, I am fully qualified to use it, even if I have no desire to.” Ushijima buttoned his jacket halfway, motioning through grabbing his weapon and drawing it. “Either way, I have no intention of firing it unless it’s their life against yours.”

Shivering at that thought, Iwaizumi murmured, “Let’s hope not.”

“Indeed.” Ushijima stood in front of Iwaizumi and reached up to brush his knuckles along Iwaizumi’s jawline. “I could never let someone hurt you.”

Iwaizumi snagged Ushijima’s hand in his and gave it a squeeze. “I still can’t believe you’re a big softie.”

“Not today.” Ushijima dropped his hand and headed for the electronic panel next to the door. He keyed in a few things, and a few minutes later, there was a knock on the door. Ushijima opened it and nodded to his four comrades who would accompany them to the car. “Shall we?”

The group proceeded out to the driveway loop in front of the house and surrounded Iwaizumi as he climbed into the back of a black sedan. He couldn’t help the nervous sweat sprouting from his palms. Inside, Ushijima noted Iwaizumi’s apprehension and mentioned, “This car has been inspected by someone trustworthy. You’ll get there safely.”

Iwaizumi hummed but didn’t answer. His mind was too full for words, instead brimming with numbers and names and any number of ways the day’s events could go terribly wrong. He could be cross-examined and somehow discredited as a witness. He could be attacked and neutralized before he even made it to the courtroom. Something could happen to Rino or Ryouta or Ushijima. He swallowed hard at that last thought.

The car pulled up to the curb in front of the courthouse, a few meters away from the base of the steps leading up into the building. Ushijima’s hands balled into fists over his thighs, and Iwaizumi could relate. The trip from the car to the courthouse would be the last chance for anyone who wanted him out of the way to act on it.

Taking a shuddering breath, Iwaizumi looked over at Ushijima and squeezed his hand. “I just want to say . . . whatever happens, I really appreciate everything you’ve done to take care of me and my family.” 

Ushijima stared straight ahead, his jaw stiffening as he took in Iwaizumi’s words. “I won’t let anything happen to you. I c —” His voice broke. “I can’t.”

“Wakatoshi, I —” A knot of emotion lodged in Iwaizumi’s throat, and he couldn’t find the words to say what he wanted to say, let alone the will to push them out. Instead, he reached up to cup Ushijima’s jaw and press their lips together with every ounce of urgency and anxiety coursing through his entire being.

Iwaizumi expected Ushijima to push him away, but Ushijima leaned into the kiss and returned it hungrily until they were both breathless. Their foreheads resting against one another, they both closed their eyes to linger in the moment in unspoken harmony. 

They finally pulled away from one another, their eyes locked until Iwaizumi realized he had one more uncomfortable piece of business to take care of. “I, uh . . . have one thing I need to ask. It’s probably too much, but I can’t trust anyone else with it.” 

When Ushijima nodded, Iwaizumi exhaled heavily and said, “If something does happen to me, can you make sure Mom and Ryou are taken care of? I know it’s a lot and probably not your thing, but I don’t know who else to —”

“You didn’t even need to ask.” Ushijima gave him a hint of a smile and faced forward. “I would have done that even if you’d told me not to.”

Iwaizumi squeezed his eyes shut and sighed in relief. “God, you’re like a superhero. It’s kind of gross.”

Ushijima put a hand on Iwaizumi’s arm. “Everything will be fine, Hajime. Let me take care of you.” His phone rang, and after a brief conversation, he hung up. “It’s time.”

They shared a look, and Iwaizumi couldn’t help but gain strength from Ushijima’s reassuring presence. Outside the car, a group of Ushijima’s squad formed a circle around the door, shielding Iwaizumi as he exited. Behind him, Ushijima’s large figure closed the circle, and the formation began to move in unison.

Clusters of reporters clogged the sidewalks, but men in uniform — Iwaizumi couldn’t tell if they were private security or police — corralled them back to make way for the procession. It was slow going, but for once Iwaizumi was grateful for the wall of security surrounding him; it separated him from the swarms of journalists who wouldn’t take ‘no comment’ for an answer.

However, the clamor of questions morphed into a panicked roar when a loud  _ crack _ rang out over the noise of the crowd. Shrieks pierced the air around Iwaizumi, who felt himself be pushed roughly to the ground from behind. His cheek roughly impacted the pavement, and a warm, solid body landed unceremoniously on top of him.

There was a second gunshot, and Iwaizumi’s hands curled into fists and his eyes squeezed shut against the sound of it echoing in his ears.  _ Those were meant for me _ , his brain ranted over and over, louder than any of the frightened cries surrounding him.  _ I don’t want to die _ . 

Iwaizumi was roughly jerked to his feet, and one of the security detail dragged him away toward the building. “We need to get you inside. Now.”

Another security man hooked onto Iwaizumi’s other arm and urged him toward the courthouse, and Iwaizumi’s feet scrambled to comply. The flurry of fleeing spectators governed their path, sending them in erratic arcs. An errant shoulder shook one of his escort’s grasp on Iwaizumi’s arm, sending him sprawling on the steps. 

“Get up!” barked his escort, already lugging Iwaizumi back to his feet.

Looking behind him for the first time since the shooting started, Iwaizumi’s gaze wandered over to where he had been standing and a strangled scream tore from his throat when he saw Ushijima sprawled on the pavement, blood red stains soaking through the gray fabric of his suit.

“No!” he shrieked, wrenching himself away from his guards and hurtling back down the steps, even though he had been only a few meters from his destination and from safety. Iwaizumi could hear his stymied guards shouting at him to stop, but it was just another element of the unintelligible cacophony around him. 

He dropped to his knees at Ushijima’s side, his eyes glued to the dark, ugly wound on the right shoulder. “Wakatoshi,” he hissed, desperate to shake Ushijima until he got up and declared this whole thing a huge misunderstanding. His eyes welled up and his entire body was shaking. “Wakatoshi, please. Please be okay. I can’t do this alone.”

“Hajime,” Ushijima rasped, his voice muffled by the cement. “You’re alive.” A shuddering sigh of relief burst from Iwaizumi’s lungs at the sound of Ushijima’s voice.

His relief gave way to surprise when Ushijima’s uninjured arm reached up and pulled Iwaizumi down to the pavement by his tie. “Listen . . .  listen to me.” When Iwaizumi leaned in as he was told, he continued, every word a hard-fought battle. “I had eyes . . . on the shooter. I know who he is. It’s —” Ushijima’s eyes screwed shut as his face twisted in pain. “It’s why he shot me. Don’t trust anybody. Run. St-stay in populated areas, and don’t look back.” 

Ushijima’s hand dropped, his chest heaving from the effort, and Iwaizumi was frozen in place. He had heard every labored word Ushijima had said, but his body refused to respond to the command. The last thing he wanted to do was leave Ushijima bleeding in the street.

“Go!” Ushijima pushed Iwaizumi away and rasped, “Please go.”

The plea in Ushijima’s eyes finally pushed Iwaizumi into action. He backed away from Ushijima before taking off in a sprint. Careening down the sidewalks, barely dodging the passers-by, he barreled around the corner of the block as fast as his hard-soled loafers would let him go. Strange looks followed him down the street, but he didn’t slow down, even when his lungs started burning from effort he hadn’t expended in a long time. 

All around the block he ran, and Iwaizumi knew he had to make it to the courthouse. The sooner he testified against who was trying to kill him, the sooner he would be safe, the sooner Rino and Ryouta would be safe. And then they could nail that guy’s ass to the wall for two counts of attempted murder.

If Iwaizumi didn’t kill the guy first.

Iwaizumi spotted an alley that led past the back of the courthouse, and he veered sharply to the left. He could spy a back door that he hoped like hell was unlocked, or he would have to risk going around the front again. His side already starting to cramp from the run, his pace flagged but he stopped to take a fortifying breath to carry him the rest of the way. Ushijima took a bullet for him; the least he could do was not get shot himself.

That thought derailed when Iwaizumi heard the hammer of a gun click directly to his side. 

“Shit.” Iwaizumi raised his hands behind his head, sighing as he turned to face his assailant. His eyes widened when he saw the face behind the firearm. “Seriously?”

The absolute last person he had ever expected to hold his life in his hands stood before him, eyes glittering with malice as they stepped closer to Iwaizumi. “You have been hard to find, Iwaizumi-kun.”

Iwaizumi gaped at the person whose name he could not recall to save his life, but he remembered the guy well enough. Tall, weedy, and pale, the tech support guy from the second floor who had repaired Tokugawa’s laptop during Iwaizumi’s first week on the job smirked at him from behind the barrel of the gun.

“Don’t look so surprised,” he said, taking another step forward. “You knew it had to be one of us, and you probably don’t even remember my name.” The gun was now right in front of Iwaizumi’s nose, and he could smell the burnt powder from the inside of the barrel. “It made it easy to figure out who was helping the old man when I left a bug in his laptop. I took care of him, and now it’s your turn.”

Swallowing hard, Iwaizumi closed his eyes and thought about a lot of things. He thought about Oikawa and his terrible yet amusing romantic advice. He thought about Ryouta’s last baseball game and the walk-off home run his brother had hit to end it in the bottom of the ninth. He thought about the way Rino’s face had lit up when he had got her a set of Sailor Moon scrubs for her birthday. 

And he thought about Ushijima. About his stiff demeanor. About his hoard of manga and sports anime with chipper protagonists so unlike him that it was a contradiction to even see them both in the same place. About the way he moved around the kitchen with as much ease and grace as he had the volleyball court all those years ago. About his strong shoulders that always seemed to carry every burden and make it look so light. About how his lips were even softer than they looked, and that Iwaizumi was probably the only person who knew that.

About how Ushijima had taken a bullet for him, and he was going to die anyway.

Iwaizumi bit his lip as a tear slipped down his cheek. He knew he couldn’t move fast enough to throw off the gun’s target at point blank range. He thought about begging for his life, but the words just seemed to wedge themselves in his throat. 

The shot came, and Iwaizumi waited for that brief flash of pain he would probably experience before the lights went out and it all ended, but it never came. Instead, he heard a thud in front of him. He craned one eye open in curiosity, only to find his would-be murderer dropping into a pile on the blacktop, blood pulsing from a wound in the side of his neck.

Shuddering in relief, Iwaizumi dropped his arms and looked over to find Ushijima at the entry of the alley, good arm holding up the gun he strapped to himself every day yet had never used until now. The gun clattered to the ground so Ushijima could press his palm to the oozing wound.

Iwaizumi ran as fast as his wobbling legs would allow. He wrapped his arms around Ushijima’s waist and caught him before he fell to his knees. Gently, he lowered Ushijima to rest against his chest, the weight of his body sagging against Iwaizumi. Iwaizumi ripped off his tie and rolled it up to press against Ushijima’s wound.

“Damn it.” He dropped the tie and tried to peel away Ushijima’s jacket, only for it to elicit a grunt of pain. “I’m gonna have to take this off. Brace yourself.”

Ushijima gave a curt nod, and Iwaizumi pried the fabric off of the sticky wound and away from his torso. This time, the wadded up tie was successful in staunching the blood flow. Iwaizumi wedged the makeshift bandage under the strap of Ushijima’s gun holster. “Stay with me, okay?” he murmured, his arms curling around Ushijima. “Please.”

“I’m not going to die,” Ushijima wheezed, his chortle turning into a moan of agony. His attempt to sit up met with similar results, and he promptly returned to Iwaizumi’s grasp. “I probably need . . . an ambulance.”

Iwaizumi let out a chortle that turned into a sob. He buried his face in Ushijima’s hair and smiled. “We’ll get you one, I promise.” Spying Ushijima’s phone peeking from the pocket of his jacket, Iwaizumi picked it up and stammered out an emergency call.

Ushijima’s breath was growing increasingly labored, his face twisted in pain. Iwaizumi removed Ushijima’s necktie and fashioned a makeshift sling to alleviate some of the weight from the wounded shoulder. “Easy now,” he murmured, coursing his fingers through Ushijima’s hair. “Help’s on the way.” Ushijima nodded against his chest, and Iwaizumi closed his eyes in relief.


	8. Tidings

In under fifteen minutes, they were aboard an ambulance and headed for the hospital. One of the paramedics had praised Iwaizumi’s efforts to care for Ushijima’s wound, but he barely heard the words after he fixed his gaze on Ushijima’s ashen face. “Is he gonna be okay?”

The paramedic gave Iwaizumi a tight smile. “The bullet is lodged in the bone, so it’ll take a long time to heal, but you kept the wound elevated and stopped the bleeding.” He checked the electronic display monitoring Ushijima’s vital signs and gave a hum of appreciation. “His blood pressure is low and so is his heartbeat, but the wound is clotting like it should. It’ll be a long recovery, but he seems like he’ll pull through all right.”

“Thank god.” Iwaizumi slumped back in his seat and buried his face in his hands. “I just want this to be over.”

“Hajime.” His voice was barely more than a whisper, but Iwaizumi heard Ushijima loud and clear. A hand reached out, and Iwaizumi folded it into his. Ushijima murmured, “You’re here.”

Iwaizumi gave him a watery smile. “‘Course I’m here. Where else would I be?”

“You need to t-testify. Then you’re be safe.” Ushijima’s breath quickened, and he winced from the effort. 

His heart aching in his chest, Iwaizumi closed his eyes and smiled. “You saved my life.”

“I . . . I had to.” Ushijima reached up and fumbled around until his palm found its place along the curve of Iwaizumi’s cheek. “It’s you.”

“Wakatoshi, you need to rest. I’ll be here when you wake up.” A sob racked through Iwaizumi, and he stroked the back of Ushijima’s hand. “We’re safe now, okay.”

Ushijima mumbled something Iwaizumi couldn’t make out, but he squeezed Iwaizumi’s hand as his eyes fluttered shut.

“So, are you to, um, an item?” the paramedic asked, brow raised. 

Iwaizumi leaned forward and tucked Ushijima’s hand back at his side. “That’s up to him, how he feels about all this when he wakes up. He almost died for me. He  _ killed _ someone to save my life.”

The paramedic shrugged. “I don’t think you have anything to worry about. It sounds to me like he loves you a lot.” He poked his head through the window to the ambulance’s front seat and exchanged a few words with the driver. To Iwaizumi, he relayed, “We’re pulling up to the doors. They’re, uh, not going to let you in because you’re not family.”

A realization dawned on Iwaizumi. “Shit. I need to call his family. They don’t even know.”

“It might help kill time until he’s allowed to have visitors.” The ambulance lurched to a stop, and the paramedic gave Iwaizumi a wry smile. “Sorry, kid. I don’t make the rules. For what it’s worth, I hope things work out for you two. I don’t see a whole lot of good things happen in this line of work, so I’d call that a win.”

Iwaizumi gave Ushijima’s hand one last squeeze. “You and me both.”

Ushijima was promptly unloaded onto a gurney by a team of orderlies, and Iwaizumi was shuffled aside to watch as Ushijima was wheeled into the building. Fighting the urge to follow them, he directed himself to a nearby bench and pulled Ushijima’s phone from his pocket. He sifted through the contacts until he found the entry he was looking for: Ushijima Mao. Taking a deep breath, he hit the call button.

After two rings, the line sprang to life. “Wakatoshi?”

The apprehensive voice on the other end of the line startled Iwaizumi. He nearly forgot to answer who he supposed was Ushijima’s mother. “No, Ushijima-san. I’m calling you from his phone.”

“Who are you?” Mao’s voice grew sharp. “Why are you calling?”

Iwaizumi fought off a chuckle; he could see where Ushijima had inherited his frankness. “My name is Iwaizumi Hajime. I’m a friend of Wakatoshi’s. I thought you should know that he —” He took a shuddering breath. “He was seriously injured in the line of duty. He’s just been admitted to Tohoku University Hospital for emergency surgery.”

Mao grew deathly quiet on the other end of the line, and Iwaizumi had to check to make sure the call hadn’t been dropped. When he saw it was still active, he waited for her response, anxiously tapping his toes on the pavement to keep his nerves from crawling out of his skin from the silence.

Finally, she spoke. “How serious?”

“He was shot in the shoulder,” Iwaizumi said flatly.

He heard her sharp intake of breath, and something rankled in his gut at her lack of reaction. If someone called him to tell him that his mother or brother was grievously wounded, he would be demanding details as he ran out the door. But Mao was far too silent and not nearly insistent enough.

After all that Ushijima had been through, he was not about to let it slide. “Listen, I don’t know what happened between you two, but Wakatoshi has been so alone for so long that he just accepts it. It would probably mean a lot to him if you came to see him.”

“The relationship between my son and me is none of your con —” He could almost hear the sneer in her voice as she added, “You’re one of  _ those _ friends, aren’t you?”

Iwaizumi’s nose wrinkled in distaste. “He made it sound like this is how you’d react. It’s a shame he was right.” She chirped her indignance, but Iwaizumi was done with this conversation. “Anyway, now you know. I hope you do the right thing.

“Goodbye, Ushijima-san.”

When the call ended, Iwaizumi had to fight the urge to throw the phone, but there was one more person he thought might want to know. Ushijima had mentioned the name once, and once he saw it again, Iwaizumi knew that was it. He dialed, and after a dozen rings, a deep voice much like Ushijima’s answered in English, “Hello?”

“Utsui Takashi-san?”

Takashi harrumphed. “It’s been a while since anyone called me that,” he replied in Japanese. “Who is this?”

Hoping this conversation would be more fruitful than the last, Iwaizumi answered, “My name is Iwaizumi Hajime. I’m a friend of your son’s, and I thought you might want to know that he was seriously injured this morning. He’s at Tohoku University Hospital right now in emergency surgery.”

“Is he going to be okay?” Takashi’s voice was soft and uncertain. “Is there anything I can do to help him?”

Iwaizumi huffed in relief. “I don’t know. They won’t let me see him because I’m not family. I talked to Ushijima-san, but —”

“I’ll be there as soon as I can catch a flight to Tokyo.” Takashi’s voice was choppy, as if he were moving around while talking. “Is this a good number to reach you?”

“This is actually Wakatoshi’s phone. You don’t have his number?”

“Mao would never give it to me,” Takashi spat. “She probably won’t even see him, will she?” When Iwaizumi hummed a negative, he let out a groan of disgust. “I was hoping she would get over this by now, but the Ushijimas were never all that good at being accepting.”

Iwaizumi blinked in surprise. “You mean you know he’s —”

“What, gay? I’ve know that since he was five. I never told Mao because she and her dragon of a mother didn’t even like that he was left handed. I didn’t even want to think of how they would react to something like that.”

“Utsui-san, I think Wakatoshi really needs someone to tell him that. You have his number, now, so that door is open. He’s willing to walk through it if you are.” 

Takashi was quiet for a long minute, but when Iwaizumi heard a loud, wet sniffle, he realized the other man was crying. “Do you want me to hang up?”

“No. I just —” Takashi took a deep breath. “I’m just glad he has someone like you to look out for him. Are you two together, then?”

This inquiry as unlike Mao’s as it could possibly be, Iwaizumi half-smiled as he said, “If I’m lucky.”

“I see.” Takashi clucked his tongue. “Well, I have packing to do. I will call as soon as I touch down in Tokyo, Iwaizumi-kun. I look forward to meeting you. And to getting to know Wakatoshi again. It’s been way too long.”

“Take care, Utsui-san. I’ll see you soon.”

“And to you.”

With arrangements taken care of with Ushijima’s family, Iwaizumi couldn’t wait to talk to his own. Well, sort of family. He didn’t realize his hands were shaking until he almost misdialed twice. A few rings passed before the call was picked up. “Moshi moshi!”

Hearing Oikawa’s chipper voice reminded Iwaizumi just how far removed from the familiar he really was. His throat hurt, his eyes burned, and his heart ached. He tilted his head back to stem the tears he felt coming on, but he melted into the bench with a cracked sob.

“Iwa-chan?” Oikawa’s tone was softer than Iwaizumi could ever remember, and he welcomed it. “Iwa-chan, are you okay?”

“No.” WIth a snotty sniffle, he let out a shuddering breath. “Everything is so fucked up.” He ignored a passer-by giving him a strange look. “I don’t suppose you’re in town right now.”

Oikawa hummed. “Actually, yes, we’re on a by-week. I thought you were on house arrest with Ushiwaka-chan.”

“I’m at the university hospital right now.”

Gasping, Oikawa demanded, “What happened? Are you hurt?”

“No.” Iwaizumi squeezed his eyes shut to force out the tears clouding his vision. “I’m not hurt.”

“Then what —” Oikawa sucked in a sharp breath. “Ushiwaka-chan.”

“Yeah,” Iwaizumi choked. “He —” His entire body trembled as he gave into tears.

On the other end of the line, Oikawa said, “I’ll be there as soon as I can. Are you by the emergency room entrance?”

“Y-yeah.” Iwaizumi slumped with his head between his legs, trying in vain to regain his control. “Thank you.”

“Do you want me to stay on the line?”

“No. I’m okay.” He didn’t feel okay, but with the prospect of not being alone imminent, he thought he might be. 

In less than twenty minutes, Iwaizumi heard Oikawa’s voice call to him from down the sidewalk. He looked up with red eyes and a pinched face, and in seconds, Oikawa’s arms were wrapped tight around him. “You’re a mess, Iwa-chan.”

“Yeah.” Iwaizumi buried his nose into Oikawa’s solid shoulder and held on tight. “I’m scared.”

“I know.” Oikawa looped an arm around Iwaizumi’s arms and propped his chin on his shoulder. “You want to tell me what happened?”

Iwaizumi sighed and gave a blunt account of the day, everything from their conversation in the car to him helplessly watching as Ushijima was wheeled into the hospital where he was not allowed to follow, and up through the uncomfortable conversations with Ushijima’s parents. When he finished, Oikawa was staring at him, wide eyed with his mouth hanging open.

“You look like a moron,” Iwaizumi said, his voice too tired to put much emphasis into the insult.

Oikawa’s mouth snapped shut, but he reached up and stroked Iwaizumi’s cheek. “He’ll be okay.”

Crossing his arms, Iwaizumi turned away with a scowl. “He has a fucking  _ bullet _ in his shoulder, Oikawa. You’re the one who’s in sports medicine. You know better than I do all the things that could go wrong.”

“He’s strong, Iwa-chan.” Oikawa reached over and flicked Iwaizumi’s nose. “Ushiwaka-chan is too annoying to let a stupid bullet stop him.” He stood up and grabbed Iwaizumi’s hand. “Now, let’s go check on your cranky boyfriend so you can find out for yourself that I’m right.”

Iwaizumi stood as he was bid, but he shook his head. “They won’t let us in to see him, Oikawa.”

“Then you’re not asking the right person.” He dragged Iwaizumi toward the entrance of the hospital. “Your mom works here, dummy. I think you can call in a favor or two.”

“Oh.” Annoyed he didn’t think of it but relieved he wasn’t out of options, Iwaizumi barreled toward the entrance and hauled a grinning Oikawa behind him. He made his way to the nurses station on the second floor where his mother worked and stopped at the desk. 

“Hajime-kun, what brings you here today?” asked Mamiko, the head nurse of the long-term care ward, with a grin. She ruffled his hair like she had done since he was old enough to see over the counter. “Rino doesn’t work today, dear. Is there something you need?”

Iwaizumi deflated when he remembered that his mother never worked on Mondays.  _ So much for that plan _ , he thought, but as he opened his mouth to excuse them, Oikawa elbowed him. Pasting on his most charming smile, Oikawa cooed, “We’re sorry to bother you, but Iwa-chan’s friend was brought into the emergency room a little bit ago. Since he isn’t family, he wasn’t allowed to go in to make sure he’s all right.”

“I think we can do that much for you,” Mamiko said, her fingers flying over the keyboard of the computer terminal in front of her. “Name?”

“Ushijima Wakatoshi,” Iwaizumi supplied. He gave Oikawa’s hand a squeeze and a look of gratitude. 

Mamiko frowned. “It looks like he is still in the OR. There was a lot of damage to the brachial plexus —”

“That’s the nervous network in the shoulder,” Oikawa explained.

“— and it’s going to take multiple surgeries to repair,” Mamiko finished. She gave Iwaizumi a sad smile. “I’m afraid your friend is going to be here a while, Hajime-kun. I might be able to get you into a private room, but if his parents come, it might be a problem if they don’t want you there.”

Iwaizumi shook his head. “That won’t be an issue. His father is on his way from America, and he’s expecting me, and his mother . . .” He swallowed hard and added bitterly, “She won’t see him.”

“Iwa-chan really cares about Ushiwaka-chan,” Oikawa said, hugging Iwaizumi’s arm. “We’d appreciate anything you can do.”

“All right.” Mamiko stood and gestured toward the staff elevator. “Follow me.”

Mamiko led them to the ground floor through bustling hallways until they reached a small room lined with benches. There was a large flat-screen television set mounted on the wall over a side table holding a dormant coffee pot. “I don’t expect you’d want to,” Mamiko said, “but if you turn on the monitor, you can watch the surgery in progress. We use this room for students to observe live procedures.” She pointed to the coffee pot. “Help yourselves if you’d like. I’ll come check on you in a couple of hours.”

A rush of gratitude rushed through Iwaizumi. “Thank you for this, Mamiko-san. I’d be going out of my mind right now.”

She left, and Oikawa started a pot of coffee while Iwaizumi stared at the remote control on the bench. When Oikawa sat next to him bearing two steaming cups, Iwaizumi picked up the remote and powered on the set.

“Are you sure?” Oikawa asked as he handed over a cup. “Surgery is ugly to watch.”

Iwaizumi’s eyes were glued to the set as he watched a flock of people huddled over Ushijima’s prone form. “Yeah,” he croaked past the ball of anxiety lodged in his chest. “I need to know.”

They sat huddled together on the bench, watching every detail of the surgery. Oikawa was able to answer most of Iwaizumi’s questions with the same confidence that had made Iwaizumi believe in him since they were kids. What he had said to Mamiko had not been far from the truth; he  _ would _ have been going out of his mind, but his best friend’s presence calmed him despite the gross amounts of caffeine he was pumping into his body from more than one pot of coffee. As promised, Mamiko came to check on them and even sent an orderly to bring them something from the cafeteria. 

Five hours passed before the chief surgeon started closing up. He watched her nimble fingers stitch Ushijima’s flesh back together, and he heaved a sigh of relief when the monitors tracking Ushijima’s vitals gave no discernible signs of distress. Oikawa had told him that Ushijima was strong, but knowing everything that had happened and seeing the end result, Iwaizumi could never doubt that fact again. 

Once Ushijima was wheeled from the operating room, Iwaizumi slumped against Oikawa. “I am so tired.”

Oikawa’s fingers stroked Iwaizumi’s hair as his other hand guided Iwaizumi’s head into his lap. “I know. Get some rest. Waka-chan would want you to take care of yourself, too.”

Iwaizumi chuckled against Oikawa’s thigh, even while his exhausted eyelids began to do as they were told. “You wouldn’t even recognize him, Tooru. He laughs, he smiles, he makes jokes.” His tired brain neglected to filter his words as he added, “And he’s actually a great kisser.”

“Gross, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa scolded through a chuckle. “I just ate.”

“You’re just jealous.” Iwaizumi yawned.

Oikawa let out a fake gasp of indignation. “Lies and slander. Besides, he’s yours now, so it’s his turn to be the attractive one.”

Iwaizumi smiled as his vision grew hazy from imminent sleep. “Jackass.”

“Well, I love you too, Hajime.”

Nuzzling into Oikawa’s soft t-shirt, Iwaizumi murmured, “Love you.”


	9. Cognizance

A soft voice coaxed Iwaizumi out of sleep, and he opened his eyes to find Rino’s face coming into focus. “Hi, sweetie.”

“Mom?” Iwaizumi palmed the remnants of slumber from his eyes and looked around. His head was still on a dozing Oikawa’s lap, and Rino hovered above him with Ryouta fiddling with the coffee pot behind her. “I thought you didn’t work today.”

With a groan, he sat up and stretched his arms, then training his full attention on Rino. “How did you —”

“Mamiko called me. She told me you were here for Ushijima-kun.” Rino’s face twisted with worry. “She said he was shot.” She sat next to Iwaizumi and threw her arms around him. “I just thought he was blowing this out of proportion. I didn’t know —” Shivering, she rested her head on Iwaizumi’s shoulder. “This is terrible.”

Oikawa stirred from his nap and yawned. “Hello, okaa-chan.” He gave Rino a lazy grin, and Ryouta a small wave. “Ryou-chan.” Standing, he headed for the door and opened it. “I’ll leave you to talk. Call me if you need me, Iwa-chan.”

When the door shut behind Oikawa, Ryouta asked, “Is Ushijima-san okay?”

Iwaizumi gave his brother a wan smile. “I don’t know, Ryou. He made it through surgery all right, but other than that, I haven’t heard anything.” He roughly rubbed his face. “I need to check on him.”

However, when he stood to follow Oikawa out the door, Rino grabbed him by the arm and hauled him back down on the bench. “If something had gone wrong, Mamiko would have let you know, so you’re not going anywhere until you tell me how the guy who is supposed to protect you ended up with a bullet in him.” She reached into her pocket and gave Ryouta a thousand yen note. “Go ahead and get yourself something to eat.”

“But Mom, I want to —”

“ _Now_ , Ryou!” Rino fixed her younger son with a steely gaze, and Ryouta flinched but complied. Once he was out of the room, Rino rounded on Iwaizumi. “You have ten seconds to start explaining what happened.”

Iwaizumi saw the fire in his mother’s eyes and knew there was no way he would get away with half-truths or sugar coating. With a deep breath, he gave her a blunt account of everything that happened from the moment he stepped out of the car up through the time she arrived.

When he was finished, Rino’s hands were balled into fists at her sides. “So you almost died, and you didn’t think to call me?”

“Mom, I —”

“Not good enough, Hajime!” she shrieked, her voice laced with tears Iwaizumi’s overwrought brain was not equipped to handle. “For the past two weeks, I’ve had scary men with guns lurking around my house, and I didn’t hear _anything_ from you except one call five days ago. I’ve been worried out of my mind about you, and I find out you were _shot_ at from someone _else_?”

“I know!” Iwaizumi’s fingers strangled the roots of his hair as he paced the length of the room. “I just — I needed to talk to Oikawa about something, and I was freaking out. I didn’t think and I’m sorry, all right!”

Rino’s eyes narrowed as she absorbed his words, but they widened suddenly. “Tooru knows, doesn’t he?”

“Knows what?”

She gave him a tired smile and patted his cheek. “How you feel about Ushijima-kun.”

“How did you —”

“I’m your mother, Hajime. I’ve known you longer than you’ve known you.”

Iwaizumi chortled. “That’s exactly what Oikawa said.”

Rino sighed and wrapped her arms around Iwaizumi. “I’m sorry I yelled at you. I was just worried about someone I love. I think you can relate.”

“I —” He melted in his mother’s embrace, heart aching all over again. “I need to know he’s okay. I can’t stand not knowing.”

Giving him one last squeeze of reassurance, Rino said, “Let me take care of that.” She gave him a peck on the cheek. “Wait here for your brother. I’ll be back in a bit.”

Rino left, and Iwaizumi made another pot of coffee to keep his hands from tearing out his hair while he waited. It was a relief when Ryouta returned ten minutes later with meat buns and a can of iced tea. One look at Iwaizumi’s harrowed demeanor and Ryouta gave him a sad smile. “I’m sorry about your friend, Hajime. I hope he’s all right.”

“I know, I —” He sat down, and Ryouta joined him. “I’m sorry about all of this. My job shouldn’t be messing with your life, but it’s way beyond anything I can handle.” He buried his face in his hands and groaned. “It’s driving me nuts now knowing how he’s doing. I want to see him but they’ll never let me.”

Ryouta nudged Iwaizumi with an elbow and handed him a meat bun. “You’ve had a crappy couple of weeks. At least you had someone to spend them with.” He smiled slyly. “Especially someone you like.”

Iwaizumi harrumphed. “I’d deny it, but I’m too tired to think of a way to talk myself out of it. Yeah, I like him.” He elbowed Ryouta in kind. “When did you get so smart?”

“Please.” Ryouta rolled his eyes. “I’m in high school. It’s a petri dish of hormones. I think I can tell if someone likes someone else, especially someone I know a little bit about.”

A warm feeling settled in Iwaizumi’s belly at this little slice of normalcy, but a twinge of something else knowing his brother was already so grown up. “How about you? Anyone you like?”

“Nah.” He gobbled the rest of his meat bun and cracked open his tea. “No time for that. When I go pro, though, I’ll get _plenty_ of tail.”

They both shared a chuckle, and some of the tension oozed from Iwaizumi’s shoulders. He almost forgot about his harrowing day until the door cracked open once again. Rino slipped into the room and sat on his other side. “I checked on him myself and looked at his chart. His surgery went well, and his vitals are stable. There’s no reason that should change. Once his father gets here, you’ll be able to see him.”

“Thank god.” He put his hand over Rino’s. “I’m sorry I didn’t call you, Mom. I’m really glad you’re here.”

Ryouta polished off his meal and leaned to ask, “Hey, are you coming home with us, or are you gonna wait until you can see your boyfriend?”

“I’m staying here,” Iwaizumi explained. “The cops are probably looking for me, and I probably have to make a statement. Not to mention Takatsuki-sama will be looking for me.”

Rino stood and gestured for Ryouta to follow. “If you want us to stay with you, we will, but eventually I’ll have to put Aoki-kun out of his misery. We, um, might have given him the slip.”

“I’ll call him and let him know,” Iwaizumi said with a chuckle. “After this, I’m pretty sure Trade’s security force will never want to see another Iwaizumi again.”

“The feeling is mutual. Except for Ushijima-kun, of course.” Rino opened the door and gave Iwaizumi a tight smile. “Take care of yourself, Hajime. I don’t want to get another phone call that scares me like the one I got today.”

Iwaizumi nodded. “I will.”

Once they left, Iwaizumi called Aoki to let him know his charges were safe and on their way back, and in turn he agreed to wait in the hospital’s main lobby until the police arrived. He gave a detailed account of everything he could remember about the day’s events, as well as a synopsis of the circumstances surrounding the cause of it.

By the end of it, Iwaizumi was far beyond exhausted. However, when he was offered an escort back to the Takatsuki house, he shook his head adamantly. “I’m not leaving this building until they either throw me out or you drag me out in handcuffs. Ushijima got shot protecting me, and I’ll be damned if I’m leaving without him.”

“Iwaizumi-kun, your life may still be in danger. We strongly urge you to reconsider.”

“Then let it be in danger,” Iwaizumi said, crossing his arms. “I’m not leaving.”

The two officers shared a look but relented, wishing him a good evening before taking their leave. Iwaizumi was once again alone with his thoughts, and he missed Oikawa’s company already. More than that, though, he really missed Ushijima. The man had so rapidly become a staple in his life by circumstance, but now Iwaizumi couldn’t imagine a day passing without seeing Ushijima lazily thumb through a manga he had already read a dozen times or hum while he chopped vegetables or crack an offbeat joke.

He rubbed his chest where it had started to ache at the thought.

Not ready to surrender to feeling sorry for himself, Iwaizumi settled for texting back and forth with Oikawa and then Ryouta, talking about literally anything but being shot at. Oikawa’s messages helped him the most, goading him into a debate over whether he was still better than Kageyama despite having shifted to the training side of competitive volleyball. Bickering with his best friend always did have a way of recharging his batteries, and by the time daylight stopped pouring in through the glass doors, Iwaizumi thought he might actually be able to sleep

Iwaizumi was just dozing off on a bench in the far corner of the waiting room when a hand softly shook his shoulder. He lurched to attention, spidering away from the intruder, only for his bleary eyes to land on Takatsuki standing over him flanked by two very large men in suits.

“Iwaizumi-kun, I can’t tell you how happy I am that you’re all right.” He sat on the bench next to Iwaizumi and gave a tight smile. “You’ve had quite a day.”

Taking deep breaths until his racing heart began to slow, Iwaizumi slumped back against the bench and closed his eyes. “You could say that.” He tried to straighten out his misaligned clothing but admitted defeat with a sigh. “I’m sorry, sir. I missed my testimony, but I couldn’t —” His voice lodged in his throat. “I couldn’t leave him.”

“I am much more concerned for your safety and Wakatoshi-kun’s,” Takatsuki said. He gave his bodyguards a meaningful glance, and they stepped out of earshot. “The trial has been pushed back until next week to give the police time to make better security arrangements. I hesitate leaving things this important in their hands, but they insist on it, so my hands are tied. I’m afraid your lockdown isn’t over yet.”

Iwaizumi groaned and slumped forward. “I can’t leave. Wakatoshi’s dad is flying in from the US to see him. He’s expecting me to be here.”

Takatsuki put his hand on Iwaizumi’s shoulder. “That won’t be a problem. You’ll have a security detail wherever you are. If you want to stay here, I’ll make sure you have everything you need. If you’d like to go home, that can be arranged, as well.”

“Sir, I don’t know what to say.” Iwaizumi’s eyes widened. “I’m just an office gopher who got stuck in something way over his head.”

Shaking his head, Takatsuki chuckled. “You don’t get to where I am by underestimating talented people. You get there by putting them to work and taking care of them when needed. If you’re going where Tokugawa said you’re going, I can’t very well let you get hurt or worse your first month on the job.”

“And what about Wakatoshi?” Iwaizumi’s hands balled into fists at his sides. “He took a bullet for me, and I am so not okay with that. I saw a man _die_ because of me and I don’t know how to live with that, either. I can’t keep doing stuff like this because I have my mom and my brother to think about. They depend on me, and if something happened to one of them because of me —” He took a heavy breath and turned to meet Takatsuki’s attentive gaze. “If something happened to Takako-sama because of something _you_ did, how do you think you’d feel?”

Takatsuki harrumphed. “Probably like I was about to tell my boss where he could shove it.”

“But you _are_ the boss.”

“On the contrary,” Takatsuki said, “there is no man without a master. Yours is a straightforward thing. You report to someone who reports to someone else, and so on. My masters are a little more nebulous. I answer to our clients. I answer to my wife, for sure. But I also answer to the knowledge that everything I do, every decision I make, impacts more people than I probably realize. For instance, because someone who reports to me drafted you to do some extra work, your brother has a man with a gun under his jacket follow him to school every day, watching his baseball games because you’re not allowed to leave the house to do it yourself.”

Iwaizumi blinks in astonishment at Takatsuki’s words. “I didn’t know you knew about Ryou playing baseball.”

“I played when I was his age, so I keep an eye on the local teams.” Takatsuki huffed and shook his head. “But that isn’t the point. I want you to know that I do realize what this ordeal is costing you, and I’m not blind to that. And I’m also not ignorant to the fact that because I gave him orders, a bright and loyal young man is in intensive care right now. Wakatoshi-kun agreed to that possibility when he accepted his job, but it doesn’t mean I don’t hate it.”

Takatsuki stood and straightened his jacket. “There are risks in every line of work worth doing, and if you’d prefer not to take them, I certainly understand. But please think about where you want to be in twenty years, and it won’t be a hard decision at all.” He shot a look at the reception desk. “Now as I understand it, you’re having difficulty getting in to see Wakatoshi-kun. Let me see what I can do about that.”

As he watched Takatsuki leave, Iwaizumi’s head spun from the conversation. Takatsuki had given him two tickets: one for the next elevator up on the corporate ladder, and another for a safe position where no one would ever notice him again, let alone try to kill him. He knew he would have to think on it, and he was grateful for being given ample time to do so.

Iwaizumi didn’t expect an orderly to come over and address him by name, and he jumped when he saw a stolid pair of guards behind him. “If you’ll follow me, Iwaizumi-san, I’ll take you to see Ushijima-san.” He followed, and he caught Takatsuki’s little salute as he breezed out the front doors of the hospital.

The orderly led Iwaizumi through a pair of doors code-locked and marked Authorized Personnel Only. Fleets of people in scrubs bustled about the area, and the din of medical machines of all types chimed in the background. They dodged a gurney rushing through the hall, and Iwaizumi held his breath as it swept by until he saw it was not Ushijima.

Finally, they arrived outside a room with a placard displaying Ushijima’s name on the door, with a clipboard hanging underneath it. Iwaizumi gave it a cursory look, but the writing was almost unintelligible and what he could discern he didn’t particularly understand. His hand over the doorknob, he hesitated. “Could you guys, uh, stay out here?” he said to the pair of guards behind him.

“Of course, sir.”

Opening the door when Iwaizumi wouldn’t, the orderly said, “There’s a call button on the wall next to the bed for when you’re ready to go.”

Iwaizumi swallowed hard as he stepped through the doorway. He almost didn’t recognize Ushijima’s pale and drawn face amidst the barrage of machines surrounding him. A few he recognized: blood pressure, heart rate, temperature. Ushijima’s arm was connected to an IV bag hanging next to the bed, but Iwaizumi couldn’t look at the tube protruding from Ushijima’s skin for too long without gagging. “God,” he muttered before sinking into the chair in the corner.

Taking a moment to collect himself, Iwaizumi once again looked over at Ushijima’s pallid form. His usually perfect hair was mussed, and the skin below his eyes was sunken and purpled. A hospital gown vaguely shrouded the expanse of bandages on the right shoulder, and a monitor was clipped to one of Ushijima’s limp fingertips. Iwaizumi sat up and hesitantly approached the bed, his chest tight as he noticed how small Ushijima looked next to all the machines making sure he was still alive.

He brushed a tuft of hair from Ushijima’s temple, the skin beneath his fingers clammy to the touch. The strength and solidity that Iwaizumi had always associated with Ushijima was absent, replaced by a mere shadow of him. Just that morning, Ushijima had been smiling as he made breakfast, amused by a story Iwaizumi had related featuring Oikawa, a bottle of cheap vodka, and an empty playground around midnight. In turn, Ushijima shared his own first encounter with alcohol — as much as he could remember, at least — culminating with waking up wearing someone else’s pants.

It seemed so far away now, a distant memory despite little more than twelve hours having passed. That Ushijima was gone, the room empty of his presence despite the rest of him right there in that bed. The image of Ushijima lying on the sidewalk intruded into his thoughts, the ugly swell of blood blooming on his shoulder filling his mind’s eye. No matter where he looked, he could not banish the image from his mind.

Iwaizumi bit his lip, and his eyes filled with tears. It was all his fault. If he had never walked up to Ushijima and started a conversation, it would have been extremely unlikely Ushijima would have been involved in the situation Iwaizumi had fallen into during the investigation. In all likelihood, he would be on his couch at that very moment, browsing a manga he had already read several times and enjoying it just as he always did.

He reached down to take Ushijima’s hand, lacing the limp fingers with his. His own hands were trembling as he brought the pale knuckles to his lips, and his shoulders shook when the tears finally came. Clutching their joined hands to his heart, he dredged up all the stress and fear and anxiety that he had accumulated over the past few weeks and expelled it.

When he felt Ushijima’s hand grasp onto his own, Iwaizumi gasped and looked down at Ushijima, whose eyes were trying and failing to open.

“Tired,” Ushijima murmured, flexing his fingers within Iwaizumi’s grip. “I . . . water.”

Frantically scanning the room, Iwaizumi spied paper cups atop a side table nearby. “I’ll be right back.” Gently replacing Ushijima’s arm at his side, he rummaged through the cabinet and found a few bottles of water. He took a bottle and cup and pulled the chair directly to the bedside. Filling the up about a third of the way, he held it to Ushijima’s lips and carefully helped him drink.

Ushijima consumed almost the entire bottle before he waved off more and dropped his head back, breaths labored and eyes squeezed shut. “Thank you.”

“I didn’t think you’d be awake this soon,” Iwaizumi croaked, voice still thick with emotion. “Sorry I woke you up.”

His head lolled back and forth, drawing a moan of discomfort. “No. I’m glad you’re here.”

Biting back a fresh tide of tears, Iwaizumi gave him a wobbly smile. “Where else would I be? You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

“You should be . . . protected.” Ushijima attempted to raise his hand, but it dropped unceremoniously back onto the covers.

Iwaizumi finished the task for him and took Ushijima’s hand once again. “They’re right outside. Takatsuki-sama saw to it. He also got me in here.”

“Good.” Ushijima opened his eyes for a moment but closed them right away. “The room is moving.”

“They probably pumped you full of drugs,” Iwaizumi suggested, and he brushed a kiss to the back of Ushijima’s hand. “Don’t worry about it. I look like shit right now anyway.” Tracing his fingers over the weak pulse on the inside of Ushijima’s wrist, Iwaizumi started to fill the silence.

“By the way, Oikawa says he hopes you get better soon so he can get back to making fun of you.” His fingers paused for a moment. “I called your parents to let them know what happened.”

Ushijima stilled, but Iwaizumi could feel the tension lance through his whole body. “And?”

“Your mom was not, uh, really receptive to my call, but she knows. But your dad . . . he’s actually on a plane right now to see you.” Iwaizumi checked the old analog clock on the wall and harrumphed. “He’ll probably be here by morning if he could get an early enough flight.”

“Papa.” Ushijima’s voice was barely a whisper, but Iwaizumi could hear years of feelings buried within that one simple word. His brain dredged up a mental image of a small Ushijima watching a faceless figure walk away from him.

Stomach churning, he squeezed Ushijima’s hand. “You haven’t talked to him in almost twenty years. You both probably have a lot to say.”

“Not really.” Ushijima let himself sink back into his pillows. “I don’t know him anymore.”

Iwaizumi thought about the conversation he’d had with Takashi and shrugged. “Well, he knows you pretty well, considering. When I mentioned the conversation with your mom not going well, he said he wasn’t surprised.” He stopped short of relating the rest of their dialogue; that struck him as something Takashi might want to impart himself once he arrived.

Instead, he offered, “Just give him a chance. You don’t know why he hasn’t seen or talked to you for this long, and you’ve had his number for _how_ long without making the call yourself?” His finger traced the lines of Ushijima’s palm as he mused, “You know, I’d kill to have an old man who actually gave a crap if I was dead or alive.”

“I know.” Ushijima’s fingers curled around Iwaizumi’s. “Thank you for —” His eyes flew open and he cast Iwaizumi an alarmed look. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

Rapidly scanning the room, Iwaizumi spied a small waste can nearby and brought it over. He curled his arm under Ushijima’s left arm and hoisted him up just in time for the contents of his stomach to empty into the can. When Ushijima finally waved him off, they worked together to ease him back down onto the mattress. Sweat was sprouting on Ushijima’s brow and he panted while his face scrunched in pain. The sight making him feel queasy as well, Iwaizumi hit call button on the wall.

When a nurse bustled in, Iwaizumi said, “He’s been throwing up, and I think the meds are wearing off.”

She nodded and returned with a medication cart. Iwaizumi shrank into the corner and observed her injecting something into the IV line before whisking out of the room. Ushijima was even paler than he had been before, and Iwaizumi could see he was losing the fight to stay conscious. “You need to sleep,” he urged. “Can I get you anything?”

His cheeks turning pink, Ushijima wheezed, “I need to, um, use the restroom.”

Iwaizumi blanched, clueless on how to proceed. He saw a door leading to what he assumed was a lavatory, but Ushijima was in no shape to make the trip. However, his dilemma was solved when another nurse came into the room and said, “Time to freshen you up, Ushijima-san.” She took a bedpan from a compartment under the bed and rolled Ushijima on his side. The strain of the jostling made Ushijima’s breaths short and labored, but he sighed in relief once he was eased back down.

After she cleaned up, Iwaizumi hailed the nurse before she left. “Hey, uh, can you show me what you did in case I need to help him?” She offered him a warm smile and walked him through the steps before replacing the bedpan with a fresh one and leaving them alone once again. He sat back into his chair next to Ushijima and brushed the sweat-streaked hair from his brow. “Go to sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

Ushijima looked like he wanted to say something, but his morphine drip willed out and he sunk into a restful sleep. Iwaizumi debated doing the same right in the bedside chair, but Ushijima needed rest and he didn’t want to take that from him. He hit the call button before he could change his mind.

With one last look behind him, Iwaizumi checked on Ushijima a final time and left the room. Outside, he found his duo of guards right where he had left them. “Sorry for making you wait.”

The shorter of the two, a sandy-haired man who looked a lot younger than he probably was, cast a thoughtful look at the closed door. “We understand, Iwaizumi-san. You two are friends, aren’t you?”

“Something like that.” Iwaizumi swallowed an uncharitable comment because he didn’t know if either of these two were the ones who refused to room with Ushijima. Picking a fight wouldn’t do anyone any good, so he walked between them as they followed the nurse who answered the call out of the intensive care ward.

The car ride back to the house was quiet, and Iwaizumi didn’t have the energy to object to being surrounded as they moved across the estate. Inside the apartment that Ushijima and Iwaizumi had left only that morning, it felt like an old dream, far removed from the present. Even the dishes on the draining board from breakfast reminded him of it

In his room, Iwaizumi stripped down to his underwear, not bothering with pajamas because he would not be sharing the space for a while. But as he was about to climb into bed, he looked down at the futon on the floor where Ushijima had slept for almost two weeks just to be that much nearer in case he was needed. Neither of the new guys were staying that close, instead opting for the couch and Ushijima’s room, respectively.

He didn’t realize how lonely it would feel.

Instead, Iwaizumi settled himself onto the futon on the floor and buried his face in the pillow, hoping he could stave off the solitude he was so unused to as he fell into a fitful sleep.


	10. Family Matters

The wail of his phone’s alarm rattled Iwaizumi from his fitful sleep. His hand swatted around until they encountered his discarded pants, and he fished his phone from the pocket. Grumbling to himself, he muted it and wearily climbed to his feet.

Bleary eyed and brain addled with exhaustion, he dropped onto the bed and stared at the wall in front of him without actually looking at it. He had awoken at five in the morning often enough, but he couldn’t think of a time he had ever been so unhappy to be awake.

He had hardly slept, jarred from any form of rest every couple of hours when the events of the previous day would bombard his unconscious mind. Blood and gunshots sent his nerves into high alert, and every time he woke up soaked in anxious sweat and his heart pounding.

A dull ache lingered behind his eyes as he stumbled into the bathroom for a much-needed shower. The hot water rinsed away the sweat, but the rest of it didn’t trickle down the drain as easily. Eyes closed, he rested his forehead against the shower wall and let the stream ease the rigidity in his shoulders. He had to be at his best today because Ushijima needed him to be.

Iwaizumi dragged himself out of the shower and slung a towel around his hips, heading for the kitchen in search of desperately needed caffeination. On the couch, he noticed one of his guards browsing through one of Ushijima’s manga volumes, and he couldn’t fight off a prickle of irritation at the sight.

Instead, he raided the cupboard and grabbed a few of the plastic wrapped pastries he hadn’t eaten since he had moved in; Ushijima’s proclivities for early rising and cooking had seen to that.

“How are you this morning, Iwaizumi-san?” asked the guard, not looking up from the book.

“I’ve been better.” He finished his breakfast and got dressed, and as soon as both of his detail were ready, they headed for the car to return to the hospital.

This time, the mere mention of his name gained Iwaizumi immediate access to Ushijima’s new room, his stay in intensive care having ended, and he quickly found himself standing in front of a new door. The chart was just as cryptic as it had been previously, so Iwaizumi bypassed it in favor of going straight into the room.

Yet again, it startled him to see Ushijima lying still and pallid on the bed, and Iwaizumi gave into the urge to straighten Ushijima’s unusually tousled hair. His fingers lingered on Ushijima’s cheek, running them along the day’s worth of beard growth that never would have been allowed to grow otherwise.

Iwaizumi didn’t realize how much he had missed the quirks of Ushijima’s daily routine until he caught himself waiting that morning to hear Ushijima hum his favorite anime’s theme song while shaving, only to be met with dull silence. He chortled and started to sing that very song, awful singing voice and all.

A hand reached up to cover Iwaizumi’s, and he soon found Ushijima’s eyes on him. “Did I wake you?”

“I’m glad you did.” He gave a wan smile and closed his eyes. “I’m starving.”

The simple request brought a grin to Iwaizumi’s face, and his spirits were much higher as he called the nurses station to have food sent to the room. When it arrived, he helped Ushijima consume the parts of the ridiculously appetizing spread of food that he could handle until he begged off. “I hate morphine,” he grumbled.

“Yeah, mom said it’s probably what makes you queasy.” Iwaizumi set aside the tray and took the chair next to the bed, his fingers still intertwined with Ushijima’s. “Are you feeling any better?”

Ushijima huffed. “I have a hole in my shoulder. Better is relative.”

“Fair enough.” Yawning, Iwaizumi propped an elbow on the edge of the bed. “I slept like shit. I couldn’t stop thinking about it.”

Iwaizumi felt Ushijima squeeze his hand. “Understandable. It’s not something you ever forget.” He shuddered and tightened his grip. “Not ever.”

“Are _you_ okay?” Iwaizumi sat up and gave Ushijima a searching look. “That was some serious shit for both of us.”

It did not escape Iwaizumi that, if anything, what Ushijima had experienced the previous day was just as bad or maybe worse than Iwaizumi’s lot. They had both been shot at, but Ushijima had actually taken a bullet on top of being responsible for ending another person’s life. Had he been in Ushijima’s shoes, Iwaizumi was hard-pressed to imagine himself handling it with the cool grace Ushijima was exhibiting.

He didn’t expect Ushijima to smile.

“You’re safe,” he explained. “If all I have to trade for that is a scar and a little bit of pain, I’m okay with that.” Ushijima’s head lolled back, and he stared at the ceiling. “I killed a man yesterday and I’ll have to live with that, but it’s what needed to be done. He can’t hurt you ever again, and that’s all that matters.”

Iwaizumi heard every word, but he couldn’t accept that this was the end of the discussion of Ushijima’s mental state. However, for the moment, he was willing to let one wound heal at a time. “Well, if you change your mind, I’ll be here.”

They sat in a comfortable silence, and Iwaizumi took that time to help Ushijima relieve himself and stretch his legs. He nearly forgot that their time alone was finite until the second phone in his pocket started ringing.

The contact information told him that it was the call he had been waiting for, and giving Ushijima a pointed look, Iwaizumi answered it. “Utsui-san.”

“I’ve just dropped my luggage off at my hotel. I’ll be arriving at the hospital in less than an hour.”

“Of course.” Iwaizumi slumped back in his chair. “I’m already here. I’ll see you then, Utsui-san.”

“Thank you for being there, Iwaizumi-kun. Wakatoshi is a lucky man to have a friend like you.”

Iwaizumi quirked a smile and squeezed Ushijima’s hand. “That goes both ways.” Ushijima glanced at him in askance, but Iwaizumi offered him a tight shrug. “Have a safe trip, Utsui-san.”

The call ended, and Ushijima sighed. “This should be interesting. I wonder what excuses he’ll make for not sending so much as an email for almost twenty years.”

“Just hear him out. That’s all I’m asking,” Iwaizumi urged. “You already regret not getting to know him for this long. Don’t make yourself regret missing a chance to change that.”

Ushijima hummed and closed his eyes. “I know, and I will. I just don’t expect anything.”

“All right.” Iwaizumi reached over and brushed the back of his hand against Ushijima’s bristly cheek. “Do you want me to scout out a razor? I know how you are about being all neat and clean cut.”

This drew a chuckle from Ushijima. “It’s fine. A little bit of beard won’t kill me.”

Iwaizumi traced Ushijima’s lower lip with his thumb and his belly clenched. “I gotta admit, I kind of like it.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Ushijima gave him a lingering look before kissing the pad of Iwaizumi’s thumb.

The brief show of affection made Iwaizumi shiver. After so many declarations that it was not the right time, he soaked up this small reminder that the thing brewing between them wasn’t just a figment of Iwaizumi’s imagination or solely on his side.

They passed the time talking about nothing in particular, with the heaviest subject matter being a discussion about Ushijima’s breakfast. Iwaizumi nearly forgot where they were until there was a knock.

They both paused in the middle of their conversation to stare at the door until Iwaizumi pushed out of his chair to answer it. One of the guards stood there and asked, “Do you know this man, Iwaizumi-san?”

Behind him, Iwaizumi spied a man much taller than either of his security detail, with familiar brown hair streaked with gray and an unmistakable resemblance to his son. “Yeah. He’s Ushijima’s father. He’s fine.”

Takashi stepped forward and extended a hand. “Iwaizumi-kun, I assume?”

“Yeah, that’s me.” Iwaizumi accepted the handshake and gave a pointed glance toward the room behind him. “Do you want to see him now, Utsui-san?”

“Does he know I’m here?” Takashi averted his eyes. “I don’t want to ambush him. He’s had enough to deal with.”

Iwaizumi nodded. “Yeah, he knows. He’s awake and expecting you.”

Taking a deep breath, Takashi entered the room, and Iwaizumi warded off his own curiosity and stayed outside. “I’m, uh, gonna go find lunch,” he said to the guards, who followed him to the cafeteria. He lingered for a little over an hour before heading back toward Ushijima’s room.

When he returned, however, it didn’t take long for him to realize that there was something very wrong happening. Inside, the din of raised voices trickled through the cracked door, and neither of them belonged to Ushijima. Iwaizumi pushed inside and stopped short when he saw the extra guest.

There was no mistaking her; the eyes and mouth were the same as her son’s, as well as the sour expression Iwaizumi had previously associated with Ushijima in their high school days. “Ushijima-san,” Iwaizumi murmured, blinking at her in surprise. “I thought you weren’t coming.”

Mao rounded on Iwaizumi, her height barely to his chest, but she was no less imposing. “I don’t answer to you. I don’t know who you think you are, but if I want to see _my_ son, I can —”

“Leave him alone, Mao!” Takashi fired. “You wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for him, so back off.”

She spun around to glare at her ex-husband. “America has removed any semblance of manners you ever had, Takashi. I can’t believe you would side with this —” Mao jabbed a finger in Iwaizumi’s direction. “— this _outsider_!”

Takashi rolled his eyes. “And you wonder why we’re not married anymore? This classist crap of yours is old and tired, and your ridiculous prejudice . . . I thought you might have changed by now. I must be an idiot for thinking you had a scrap of decency left.”

Iwaizumi looked across the room to Ushijima’s bed, where its occupant pinched the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes shut. Teeth grinding, Iwaizumi slammed the door open and roared, “That’s enough. If all you’re going to do is argue, get out.”

“How _dare_ you tell me to —”

Her diatribe was preempted by Takashi’s hand gripping her upper arm tightly and dragging her toward the door. “Iwaizumi-kun is right, Mao. Wakatoshi doesn’t need to watch us rip each other apart. We can do that on our own time.”

Mao yanked her arm from Takashi’s grasp and stormed out of the room, and he followed her promptly, leaving an almost eerie quiet behind them. Iwaizumi sat on the edge of Ushijima’s bed and buried his face in his hands, growling into his palms. “You okay?” he finally asked when Ushijima didn’t break the silence.

“I’ve been better.” Ushijima shifted positions, only to grunt and settle back down. “I lied. Being drugged out of my mind isn’t so bad after all.”

Iwaizumi was up in a second to move to Ushijima’s side. “You want me to call someone?”

Ushijima shook his head. “I want to wait until they leave. They might manage to fight less if they know I’m watching.”

“This is my fault.” Iwaizumi tugged on his hair until his scalp burned. “I shouldn’t have left you alone. I didn’t want to be a third wheel, and I —”

“Hajime, stop.” Ushijima reached up and forced Iwaizumi’s fingers to unfurl and drop at his sides. “It’s not your fault they can’t be civil.” He harrumphed. “That’s a preexisting condition.”

Iwaizumi dropped into the chair and massaged his temples. “Did you at least get _some_ time with your dad before your mom showed up?”

“Yeah, I —” Ushijima’s voice cracked, and Iwaizumi looked over in surprise. “I didn’t know how much I missed him.” Ushijima reached over and snared Iwaizumi’s hand. “He said he always knew about me, that it never mattered to him. He just wants me to be happy.”

He brushed his thumb over Ushijima’s knuckles and murmured, “Yeah, I knew.”

Ushijima let out a shuddering breath, and his fingers flexed in Iwaizumi’s grasp. They stayed there hand in hand until finally, the clamor outside the room ceased and the door cracked open once again.

Takashi’s head poked in. “I think we have a cease-fire. Do you mind if we come in?”

“Sure.” Ushijima’s grip tightened as Takashi and Mao returned to the room much more quietly than they had left. Mao had to grace to exude contrition, and Takashi just looked tired.

Mao ducked her head and sighed. “Wakatoshi, I can’t say I’ve ever understood you, and I admit that I haven’t done my best to try. You reminded me so much of your father that I might have taken out on you. I’m not asking you to forgive me because I probably don’t deserve it, but I’m giving you an apology because you deserve at least that much.”

Takashi put a hand on Mao’s shoulder, and he gave her a tight smile. “And?”

She shot him a narrow-eyed glare but relented. “I would like it if you, um, came home for dinner sometime soon.”

“No.” Ushijima sat up as much as he could in his bed, his mouth a grim line. “You’ve made it clear how you feel about who I am. I’m not going to play house with you and your prejudice like it doesn’t exist when I’m not there.”

“Wakatoshi, I —”

“He told me, you know,” Ushijima interrupted, his eyes glittering with resolve Iwaizumi recognized all too well. “I know you and your mother made sure he couldn’t call or visit. I don’t know who you paid off to get that in the divorce papers, but I grew up in that house unwanted and alone while you tried to squeeze everything you disapproved of out of me.”

His voice thick, emotions surfacing that Iwaizumi had never seen in him before, Ushijima’s eyes closed and some of the rigidity melted from his shoulders. “You apologized and I forgive you. But just because I forgive you doesn’t mean I’m going to forget everything you’ve said and done to humiliate me into being the son you wanted instead of the one you got.”

Ushijima let go of Iwaizumi and held up his left hand. “You couldn’t change this about me, and you can’t change who I love, either. Maybe one day, you’ll accept it instead of just dealing with it. When that day comes, we’ll have something to talk about.”

Iwaizumi felt a flash of pride in his chest seeing Ushijima standing up for himself. If it had been any of his business or if he had known the extent of her actions, he would have told off Mao himself. He wondered if Takashi’s long-overdue statement of love and acceptance had given Ushijima the wherewithal to tell his mother exactly how he felt.

“I understand,” Mao said quietly, and she backed toward the door, her hand resting on the knob. “Well, if you ever change your mind, you know where to find me.” She opened the door and looked over her shoulder. “I’m happy you’re all right.”

Once she left, Takashi sagged against the wall next to the door and closed his eyes. “Fifteen years ago, I would’ve given every dime I had to see her eat that much crow, but I can’t help but wish things were different for all of us. I wish we could’ve made it work. I wish I could’ve got through to her when you were a kid. I wish _I_ had tried harder.

“But enough of that.” Takashi rolled his shoulders and gave a short bow. “I’ll leave you two alone now. Iwaizumi-kun seems to do you a lot of good, Wakatoshi.”

With that, Takashi ducked out of the room and softly closed the door behind him.

Neither of them spoke as Ushijima stared at where his parents had been standing, and Iwaizumi’s attention was solely on Ushijima, who was biting down hard on his lower lip. A flash of apprehension raced through Iwaizumi, unsure what he would do if Ushijima actually started crying.

Instead, Ushijima reached for Iwaizumi’s hand and pulled it to his chest. “Thank you,” he breathed, his eyes closing and his grip tightening. “I needed that.”

“Yeah.” Iwaizumi stood and splayed his open hand over Ushijima’s steady heartbeat. “That had to be hard, saying all of that to your mom. Just _hearing_ it had to hurt like a bitch. I’m sorry I left you alone. I should’ve stayed and —”

“Hajime.” Ushijima idly stroked the back of Iwaizumi’s hands, and his eyes drifted shut. “You think too much.”

Iwaizumi lolled his head back and choked a laugh toward the ceiling. “So I’ve been told.” He edged a hip onto the bed and sighed. “Is there anything you need?”

Ushijima hummed. “Just you.” His breathing slowed, and in minutes, he was asleep. The only sign of his distress was a single tear that had worked its way down his cheek, and Iwaizumi dashed it away.

Iwaizumi watched Ushijima while he dozed, the steady rise and fall of his chest slowing as his body grew slack with slumber. His face was still pale and drawn and the skin under his eyes was dark in comparison, but he retained that centered aura that had made Iwaizumi feel safe for the past couple of weeks.

Soon, a nurse came in to dole out a fresh round of medication and freshen up the room, and Iwaizumi knew it was time to go. Outside, his detail followed him on his detour through the second floor. He couldn’t stave off a grin when he spotted Rino behind the desk at her usual nursing station, reading glasses low on her nose while she examined a clipboard.

“Mom,” he choked, and she gazed up at him in surprise.

“Hajime, is everything all right?” Rino put down the clipboard and rushed around the desk, inspecting him from head to toe with concern. “Is Ushijima-kun okay?”

His only answer was to wrap his arms around her and bury his face in the familiar comfort of her fruity shampoo. She returned his embrace just as tightly. It took a while before he was ready to let go, Ushijima’s confrontation with his own mother fresh and raw in his head. When he did, a weight had lifted from his shoulders. “I just wanted to do that.”

At her questioning look, Iwaizumi gave a brief synopsis of the morning spent with Ushijima’s parents and didn’t miss the way her face filled with sadness. “Oh baby, I’m sorry he had to go through that. He’s a nice young man, and he deserves a lot of credit for making himself that way. I see why you two need each other so much.”

Iwaizumi grunted in accord. “It puts a lot of things in perspective.”

“You’re such a good boy.” Rino patted his cheek and gave him a doting smile. “I have to get back to work. Take care, and don’t run away from your goons, all right?”

“Right.” He pecked a kiss on her forehead and left the hospital.

He returned to their lonely apartment, and Iwaizumi had to keep himself from going straight back to the hospital to spend the rest of the day and even the night with Ushijima. Instead, he sat down and drowned himself in manga without remembering a single thing he read. It wasn’t long before he gave up trying for the night, once again favoring Ushijima’s futon rather than his own bed.

It was an artificial sense of peace at best, but the brisk scent of Ushijima’s aftershave lingering in the pillowcase was enough to calm his shell-shocked brain so he could finally pass out.


	11. Connection

His next battle with sleep went about as well as the previous night. It was almost noon before he got out of bed, his entire body heavy with weariness — and only because he was too anxious to check in on Ushijima to allow himself to linger.

Iwaizumi dug out the same bag he had used for his first night spent in the apartment and started to gather things he thought Ushijima might want. His tablet complete with multiple manga readers, chargers, headphones, toiletries (including the razor Ushijima had insisted he didn’t need), and extra underthings for when he was no longer consigned to hospital gowns.

With a chuckle, he also grabbed the little baseball player figurine that lived on Ushijima’s bookshelf, as well as a poster from his room.

The bag stuffed full, Iwaizumi found his guard detail waiting for him next to the door. “We were surprised you didn’t want to leave earlier,” said Ito, the blond one whose name Iwaizumi had finally learned.

“I needed to sleep,” Iwaizumi answered truthfully. “Ushijima has enough to deal with. I don’t want him worrying about me if he doesn’t need to.” He patted the bag hanging from his shoulder. “But he needs stuff to do before his skull gets crushed by boredom. Let’s go.”

“Yes, sir,” the other one, Manaka, said with a nod as he opened the door. “There’s a car waiting for us.”

As they headed for the hospital, Iwaizumi pulled out Ushijima’s phone, which he finally planned to relinquish, and sifted through the contacts until he settled on a name he had heard Ushijima mention more than once. It was a name that he had smiled at the memory of and a name Iwaizumi promptly added to his own contact list.

Once they were securely inside the intensive care ward, Iwaizumi dialed that number and waited for the line to pick up.

“Moshi, moshi!” game a sing-song voice that reminded him oddly of Oikawa’s in the way the cheer only inhabited the surface of it, with other stuff going on underneath.

Iwaizumi scratched his head. “Is this Tendou Satori-san?”

“The one and only. What can I do for you, Stranger-kun?”

Fighting off a guffaw, Iwaizumi wheezed, “Wakatoshi was right about you. I see where he grew a sense of humor.”

“Oh?” Tendou grew silent on the other end of the line. “Wakatoshi gave you my number? That isn’t like him. He’s all huffy puffy about personal security. He even gave me firewall software for my —”

“Wakatoshi’s in the hospital,” Iwaizumi interrupted bluntly, unsure of how else to say it in a more delicate fashion. “I think he would probably like to see you if you’ve got time.”

Tendou was so silent that Iwaizumi thought the call had dropped. He almost hung up and redialed before Tendou finally said, “Is he going to be all right?”

“Yeah, probably.” Iwaizumi took a deep breath and gave a truncated account of what had happened two days before, even though it seemed like it had happened forever before. “So, yeah. Hospital. Can you come?”

There was a much more genuine smile in Tendou’s voice when he answered with a question, “Is Wakatoshi a big worrywart?”

Iwaizumi chuckled. “That’s a yes, then. Call me when you get here, and I’ll make sure they let you in.”

When he arrived at Ushijima’s room, the door was open and voices were coming from inside. Iwaizumi poked his head in, and he spied Takashi at Ushijima’s bedside, laughing at something his son had said. There was a mask of calm on Ushijima’s face, and he appeared at ease as he conversed with his dad like it was something they’d always done. It made Iwaizumi swallow hard around a lump in his throat. “I’ll come back later.”

The door was almost closed behind him before Takashi called out, “Wait!” Iwaizumi turned and raised a brow. “Please, come in. We’ve actually been waiting for you.”

“Oh?” Iwaizumi re-entered the room and put the bag down on the table near the door. “I brought you some stuff from home I thought you might want.”

Ushijima gave Takashi a pointed look, and Takashi raised his hands in surrender. “All right, you win. I know when I’m beaten.” At Iwaizumi’s vacant stare, Takashi explained, “I was sure you would take today to yourself because of everything that’s happened, but Wakatoshi said you’d be here. I was evidently mistaken.”

Iwaizumi’s gaze softened as it fell on Ushijima’s satisfied expression. “Of course I’d come. Where else would I be?”

“Point taken.” Takashi stood and patted Ushijima’s good shoulder. “Well, I’m going out for some lunch. I’ll see you boys in a while.” He looked up at the clock on the wall, which read a little past two in the afternoon. “Maybe five? Six, if you need some extra time.”

Iwaizumi closed his eyes and hummed his gratitude. “Come back whenever you feel like it, Utsui-san. I’m glad this visit went better than the last.”

Takashi gave him a wry smile. “So am I, but it wasn’t all terrible. I’m actually going to have lunch with Mao, and we’re going to work stuff out so our business doesn’t make things worse for Wakatoshi.”

“That’s great, Utsui-san. Good luck.” Takashi nodded and left the room, closing the door behind him with a soft _click_. “That’s a surprise. Yesterday, they hated each other.”

Ushijima closed his eyes and pushed himself further upright in his bed, biting his lip as the movement jostled his injured shoulder. “Well, they liked each other once. I’m sure they can figure out how to be at least civil again.”

“Hey, don’t move too much,” Iwaizumi scolded, flitting over to adjust Ushijima’s pillows behind his back. “You’re gonna tear a stitch or something.”

“I’ll live,” Ushijima said in a low voice, snagging Iwaizumi’s wrist in his grasp. “Hajime.”

Iwaizumi looked up at Ushijima and gasped in surprise when Ushijima’s hand ran up his arm until it curled around the back of his neck. Ushijima’s gaze was heavy-lidded and intense as he pulled Iwaizumi’s head down for a hint of a kiss. The contact was gone almost as soon as it had begun, yet Iwaizumi still found himself out of breath and smiling widely.

“What was that for?” Iwaizumi reached up with his thumb and strummed Ushijima’s bottom lip. “I thought you wanted to wait.”

There was a twinkle in Ushijima’s eye. “ _Want_ is probably not the right word.”

“You’re in a good mood this morning.” Iwaizumi pecked a quick kiss on Ushijima’s nose before sprawling back into the chair. “Did you and your dad have a good talk?”

Ushijima chortled and looked over at him. “Yeah, we did. We talked about our lives and the future. And other things.”

“Oh?” There was a prickle of curiosity in Iwaizumi’s belly, which only sparked into a merry burn when Ushijima reached out to take his hand.

“We talked about father and son stuff. I asked him the kinds of questions a guy usually asks his dad.”

“Like?”

Ushijima tugged on Iwaizumi’s arm until he stood and leaned closer to the bed. He thumbed Iwaizumi’s racing pulse at his wrists, staring at the pale patch of skin in wonder. “Like what it’s supposed to feel like when someone is too important to you to ignore your feelings for them, no matter how hard you try.”

“Wakatoshi,” Iwaizumi whispered, his heart loud in his chest. His fingers laced with Ushijima’s and he struggled to find words to express himself. “You mean . . .”

“I do.” Ushijima held their joined hands against his chest tightly. “I said I wanted to wait before jumping into anything, and I still think my reasons were good, but that doesn’t mean I have to pretend like I don’t feel the way I do.”

“And how is that?” Iwaizumi held his breath.

The smile he received was wide and radiant and _beautiful_. “I love you, Hajime. I know you probably don’t feel the same, and I don’t expect you to. It’s probably ridiculous because we’ve only known each other properly for a few weeks, but I know it’s true without a doubt and you deserve to know that.”

Iwaizumi’s legs gave out on him, and he slumped against the bed. “Wakatoshi, I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” Ushijima said softly. “Whatever you want is okay.”

They sat in silence for a few moments, giving Iwaizumi time to allow Ushijima’s confession to sink in. _Love_. It was something Iwaizumi understood in more than one capacity.

He loved his mom because she had been his shield and strength for most of his life; he loved Ryouta because they had supported each other after their dad left and had become closer than most brothers were; he loved Oikawa because his best friend knew and understood more about Iwaizumi than anyone else and never used that information for anything other than to help and support him.

But this kind of love was something foreign to Iwaizumi. Ever since he had reached the age where most boys spent way too much time with their hands down their shorts and chasing after girls, Iwaizumi had not really craved much in that sense. He certainly had desires here and there and no compunctions about relieving them, but urges to slake them with someone else were few and far between.

The ache to simply have someone close to him in that fashion was an aberration, as well. His entire life, he had only known it to be the thing that kept his mother with his contemptible schmuck of a father; it had never dawned on him that it had possibilities that were so much better.

Now he understood why Oikawa had told him he was an idiot.

Iwaizumi could scarcely believe he hadn’t realized it before. Even if it was something he had no personal experience with, it was the biggest thread of commonality in most entertainment. Books, movies, songs, art — so many of them were centered around the concept of love and all the convoluted emotions tied in with it. It was the one thing he could absorb and learn even if it never happened to him, and he had somehow failed to put a finger on the feeling he got when Ushijima laughed or smiled — and when he said stuff like what he had just said.

His jaw went slack and his eyes wide as these new connections fired in his brain.

“I know you probably want some time to think about it,” Ushijima interjected quietly. “If you want to forget about it for now, it’s all right. I really don’t expect you to answer unless you want to.”

Iwaizumi nodded and stared woodenly across the room, his fingers kneading against Ushijima’s all the while.

Finally, Iwaizumi stood and picked up the overnight bag he had brought. “I, uh, brought your tablet so you can read and listen to music.” He held it up, along with the fistful of charging cords. “Oh, and your headphones, socks, underwear, and some pajamas for when you get to wear people clothes.”

Ushijima gave him a crooked smile. “I appreciate it. Thank you.”

“Oh, and your toothbrush and razor. Shower stuff, too.” He unpacked the electronics and set them up, then pulled out the razor. “I thought I’d help you shave.”

“I’d like that.”

His hands given a task to distract him at last, Iwaizumi slowly and carefully gave Ushijima back this one little shred of normalcy. After that, Iwaizumi unpacked the rest of Ushijima’s things, and almost on cue, his text alert sounded. He looked at the contact name and gave Ushijima a sly smile. “I’ll be right back. I have a surprise I think you’ll like.”

In the lobby, Iwaizumi looked around for his quarry without much luck because of the visiting hours crowd, and he almost texted back so he could follow the sound. However, his eyes settled on the strangest looking person in the room, and he had a feeling that was who he was looking for. There weren’t many people who were that tall and that red-headed, and Iwaizumi could not forget someone like Tendou Satori in a hurry.

“Iwaizumi-kun!” Tendou called, his animated wave drawing the attention of several onlookers. As he approached, Iwaizumi guffawed at Tendou’s hoodie, which was emblazoned with a bold print of a character he recognized from one of the manga Ushijima kept up with. The rest of him was just as loud.

“So you’re Wakatoshi’s new boyfriend, huh?” He looked at the black-suited guards behind Iwaizumi and raised a brow. “Who are J and K back there?

Iwaizumi cringed at the loud declaration, which drew a number of narrow-eyed glances from their growing audience. He clapped Tendou on the shoulder and steered him promptly toward Ushijima’s room before he attracted any more undue attention. “Right this way.”

Once they were outside the room, Iwaizumi stopped short. “So, he’s awake and alert. I think they dialed back the morphine so he isn’t so strung out, but try not to excite him too much so he doesn’t aggravate the wound.”

“Gotcha.” Tendou slapped the door open and, arms splayed wide, cried, “Wakatoshi!”

Ushijima’s eyes flew open, and a wide grin split his face. “Satori.”

The change in Ushijima’s expression was almost startling to Iwaizumi. It was nearly impossible to reconcile this beaming creature being Ushijima’s best friend, but observing the way Ushijima’s entire being had come right to life, he understood. There seemed to be a kinship between them that reminded him somewhat of how he and Oikawa got along.

“I’ll give you guys some time,” Iwaizumi murmured, and he slipped from the room before anyone could object.

As he headed for the cafeteria to eat for the first time that day, Iwaizumi turned a lot of things over in his mind. Ushijima was recovering wounds both new and old, there didn’t seem to be anyone else trying to kill either of them at the moment, and he finally knew where he stood in their relationship.

He bit back a smile to himself and texted Oikawa the news, his steps a little lighter while he walked back to Ushijima’s room.

There was a rich peal of laughter coming from the slightly open door, and when Iwaizumi peeked inside, his belly fluttered pleasantly at the sight of Ushijima swiping tears of mirth from his eyes. Tendou sat next to him looking far too satisfied with his handiwork.

Iwaizumi wished he had called Tendou sooner; Ushijima had never looked so alive, despite his condition.

He gave a soft knock before entering, and Ushijima’s dazzling smile was directed at Iwaizumi in full force. “Did you have a good lunch?”

“I just had some melon bread, but it was good.” He perched a hip on the foot of Ushijima’s bed. “You two are having a good time. I’m almost afraid to ask.”

Tendou reached over and slapped Iwaizumi’s thigh. “That is an excellent question, Iwaizumi-kun. We were actually just talking about _you_.”

“Now I’m in trouble.” Iwaizumi quirked a brow. “I don’t suppose you’re going to tell me what you were talking about, considering how hard you two were laughing.”

Ushijima and Tendou shared a look before they both guffawed. Tendou said, “That was _not_ us talking about you, I promise. I was just telling Wakatoshi about one of our old kouhai getting married last week. He thought he would remember the way to the temple, but he got lost and ended up being late to his own wedding.”

Iwaizumi couldn’t stifle a cackle. “Sounds like quite a guy.”

Tendou rubbed his hands together and gave a sly grin. “But that’s not what you wanted to know. We were just talking about Wakatoshi’s massive crush on you and how he wants to —” He found himself cut off by the pillow Ushijima had swung into his face at lightning speed.

“He doesn’t know what he’s talking about,” Ushijima said quickly, giving Tendou an extra swat for good measure. “I said no such thing.”

With a shrug, Iwaizumi adds, “Well, he’s a little late to that party anyway. And as fun and wildly inappropriate what he was going to say sounds, I’m okay with not hearing the rest of it.”

“Right.” Ushijima gave a curt bob of the head. He de-weaponized his pillow and scratched around the edges of his bandages. “This itches like hell.”

In a moment, Iwaizumi was at Ushijima’s side, pulling down the shoulder of his hospital gown and inspecting the site. “It doesn’t feel too hot or irritated. The itching is normal. Scratch around it if you have to, but not on the stitches. It’ll get better within a couple of weeks if it’s healing right.”

Tendou hummed in interest. “Do I even want to know how you know that?”

“Yeah, well —” Iwaizumi looked away and finished, “when you’re under house arrest and can’t sleep or think about anything else, you spend a lot of time Googling shit to pass the time.”

The mood sobered, and Iwaizumi quickly wished he could take back his words. He didn’t miss the way Ushijima began staring at his hands, nor how Tendou seemed to be sizing him up in a far more critical way than he had the first time they’d introduced themselves. But what was done wouldn’t change, so he busied himself straightening Ushijima’s gown. “That’ll probably need changed again soon.”

“Someone will probably come by in about an hour,” Ushijima said, his fingers brushing where Iwaizumi’s had touched moments before. “I wish you didn’t worry about me so much. I’ll be okay.”

Iwaizumi huffed. “Yeah, that makes one of us.”

His words brought the awkward silence back over them, and Iwaizumi could see Tendou squirming in his chair trying to keep himself from filling it. However, the problem was solved by a soft knock at the door.

Ushijima called for them to come in, and a doctor swept into the room holding Ushijima’s chart from the slot on the door. “Ushijima-san, you seem to be doing very well.”

Nodding, Ushijima said, “It still hurts a little bit, but nothing I can’t handle.”

“Excellent.” The doctor went over to inspect the wound beneath the dressing and hummed in approval. “This is healing very nicely. Now, can I get you to move your right hand?”

Ushijima complied with the request, wriggling his fingers and then, with some strain, raising his arm up at the elbow. It dropped down almost immediately, but after the initial prognosis post-surgery, Iwaizumi didn’t need the doctor to tell him how good of news this was.

“You’re a lucky young man,” the doctor observed, further inspecting the red and hot-looking wound. “The nerve damage seems minimal considering, and your surgeon managed to piece a good bit of it back together after taking out the bullet.”

The doctor’s expert hands redressed Ushijima’s shoulder as he spoke. “It looks like you probably won’t need extra surgeries to fix the rest of it, and you’re recovering nicely, so I don’t see why you couldn’t go home in a couple of days.”

Iwaizumi’s jaw dropped, and his eyes met Ushijima’s. He could see the beginnings of a smile, and Iwaizumi heaved a sigh of relief that the worst of it would soon pass.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Iwaizumi asked.

The doctor eyed Iwaizumi, his face too cryptic for Iwaizumi’s taste. “Will you be his primary caregiver?”

“Probably.” Iwaizumi crossed his arms and straightened his spine when he cottoned on to the question underneath a question. “We live together.”

Pulling a notepad from his lab coat pocket, the doctor scribbled a list and handed it to Iwaizumi. He couldn’t read a single thing on the list, but he pocketed it and made a mental note to send the list to Rino for translation later.

After a round of vitals checking, the doctor filled in Ushijima’s chart and tucked it under his arm. “Well, things are looking good, young man. If you want to bring clothes from home so you don’t have to leave the back door open, that’s fine. Just call someone if you need help getting to the bathroom.”

“Thank you,” Ushijima said as the doctor left and shut the door behind him. Once they were alone, Ushijima threw back the covers and started sliding his feet to the floor.

“Dude, what the hell,” Iwaizumi growled, sliding his shoulder under Ushijima’s arm before his feet touched the floor. Ushijima’s knees buckled, settling his considerable weight onto Iwaizumi. “I got you.”

Ushijima frowned. “I thought I would be able to stand.”

Tendou breezed around to flick Ushijima in the forehead. “You got shot, ya dope. There’s going to be a bunch of stuff you can’t do for a while. Let Iwaizumi-kun help you.”

“Grab his clothes,” Iwaizumi hissed, trying not to let Ushijima’s weight knock him off balance. “Jesus, it feels like you weigh a hundred kilos.”

“I do,” Ushijima said with a chuckle. “I’m not a small person.”

“Yeah, I’ll say.” Iwaizumi helped Tendou wrangle Ushijima into his underwear and sleep shorts as best he could, and as soon as his bottoms were on, Iwaizumi guided Ushijima toward the room’s tiny restroom.

It took a combination of Iwaizumi’s assistance and the stout handrails on every wall in the bathroom for Ushijima to finally get seated. He panted and slouched back, eyes closed as he groaned. “This is embarrassing.”

“The hell it is,” Iwaizumi said, crossing his arms while he leaned against the sink. “Cut yourself some slack. A few days ago, you had a bullet put in you. You’re going to have to let me help you for a while. It’s not the end of the world if you need to lean on someone else. That’s what family is for.”

Ushijima looked up at him, blinking slowly as the words sunk in. “You think of me like family?”

Iwaizumi snorted. “’Course I do. You think I’d be wiping your ass for you if I didn’t care?” He crossed his arms and shrugged. “Besides, even if _I_ didn’t, you keeping me from getting shot would probably put you on my mom’s list of favorite people. So yeah, you’re part of the family whether you want us or not.”

Ushijima didn’t answer, and Iwaizumi felt an overwhelming urge to squirm. “This is probably weird. You, uh, need me to leave?”

“No, I —” He stared at the floor and drummed his fingers on his thigh. Quietly, he added, “It won’t come out.”

“Ah, yeah.” Iwaizumi pushed off the sink and knelt in front of Ushijima. “From what I read, that’s probably your pain meds. Listen to me, damn it.” He snared Ushijima’s hands in his. “I know this is hard for you, not being able to do things for yourself right now, but you have to let other people do stuff for you. The doctor was just in here, so why didn’t say anything?”

With still no reply coming from Ushijima, Iwaizumi sighed and stood. “I’ll see if I can get you something. You wanna stay in here, or do you want to get back in bed?”

“Back to bed,” Ushijima muttered, still refusing to look at Iwaizumi. “I’m making this hard for you and I’m sorry.”

Iwaizumi slipped his arm under Ushijima’s and helped him stand. “Get better. That’s good enough for me.”

Together, they lurched out of the bathroom and back to the bed. It took all three of them to wrangle Ushijima into his button-up night shirt, barely finishing by the time a nurse arrived with medication and a sling. Iwaizumi watched carefully at its installation and thanked the nurse when she left.

It was difficult not to notice the way Ushijima’s deflated mood lingered, and Iwaizumi felt a pang of guilt that this trend had started the moment he returned to the room. Tendou’s attempts to spark up conversation were unsuccessful, as well.

Finally, Iwaizumi busied himself with helping Ushijima stretch his legs while Tendou chattered on about some anime Iwaizumi couldn’t remember the name of. The awkward silence dragged on for over an hour until Tendou gave up on shifting Ushijima’s dour mood and promised to return the next day.

Once they were alone, Iwaizumi remarked, “You’re upset and I don’t know what to do. Do you want me to leave you alone?”

“No.” Ushijima slumped into his pillows and closed his eyes. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

Iwaizumi’s chest ached at the plea in Ushijima’s voice. He searched for the right words to say, but every one of them sounded patronizing and tasted even worse. Helpless, he rested his forehead on the crown of Ushijima’s head and took a deep breath. “I don’t know, but we’ll figure it out, all right?”

“All right.” Ushijima covered Iwaizumi’s hand with his own, and rather than strain, the quiet between them was a sharing of strength.


	12. Swan Song

 

Iwaizumi’s days leading up to the new trial date were much the same: spending as much of his time with Ushijima as he could, logging countless hours in the gym until his whole body ached, and falling into an exhausted pile come nightfall with the hope that he would be too tired to dream.

It was a vain hope, but it didn’t stop him from trying.

His daily grind didn’t change until three days before the trial was rescheduled, and that was when Ushijima was released from the hospital. He was still slow and somewhat unsteady on his feet, but Ushijima walked out of the hospital under his own power, with Iwaizumi hovering right next to make sure he stayed upright.

The shift in his routine was significant. Mornings spent downing obscene amounts of coffee were instead passed making breakfast and helping Ushijima do everyday things. Iwaizumi had not foreseen the sheer amount of labor that would go into caring for Ushijima’s needs, but he had turned down Takatsuki’s offer to hire a home care provider to do it for him and would have done it again.

Iwaizumi did it because the man he dressed, showered, bandaged, and cooked for every day had come to mean more to him than he knew how to admit, and there was no doubt in his mind whatsoever that Ushijima would do the same for him without a second thought.

However, there was an undeniable snag in Ushijima’s homecoming; they were able to spend the entire day together, but they were never alone.

Iwaizumi watched the subtle cloud of tension that radiated from Ushijima while he watched Ito and Manaka take turns festering on the couch in boredom. He itched to order them out of the apartment so there wasn’t that lingering reminder that Iwaizumi’s life was not his own until the trial finally came and went.

Ushijima worried him the most, though.

On his first night back, they were in the living room with Ushijima recessed into the plush couch cushions while Iwaizumi flitted about tidying up. He was stowing the broom in the cleaning closet when the door slapped close a little too loudly, and after Iwaizumi turned to finish his chores, he saw Ushijima leaning forward with his head between his knees panting loudly.

Iwaizumi rushed across the room and dropped to his knees in front of Ushijima, framing his strained face in his palms and smoothing his thumbs over pale cheeks. “Hey, hey, hey, you’re all right. It was just a door, no big deal. You’re okay.” He leaned forward and rested his forehead against Ushijima’s. “We’re okay. Just breathe.”

There were beads of sweat on Ushijima’s brow, and his breaths were short and labored as he struggled to regain control. Iwaizumi’s stomach was in knots as he scoured his brain for something, _anything_ he could do to alleviate this flash of panic in Ushijima.

He looked over at Manaka, who was staring wide-eyed from the kitchen table, and asked, “You mind giving us the room?”

“Yeah, sure.” Manaka’s face oozed of relief as he slipped out the door and the lock clicked behind him.

Finally alone, Iwaizumi sat on the couch next to Ushijima and latched his arms around Ushijima’s left bicep and buried his face in his shoulder. “I wish I knew what to say to make this better. I guess I never thought you could get scared of anything. I should be more careful, I’m sorry.”

“I never wanted you to see me like this,” Ushijima whispered, his eyes still averted. “You weren’t supposed to know that every time someone slams a door or bumps into something, all I can see in my mind is that one of those shots —” His whole body shook as he shivered in a deep breath. “— I couldn’t keep it from hitting you.”

Ushijima bit down hard on his lip, and Iwaizumi couldn’t swallow past the knot in his throat. “Sometimes, when I close my eyes, I can see you lying there bleeding and I can’t get to you and —” His face burrowed in Iwaizumi’s hair. “This is ridiculous. I can’t believe I —”

“Can’t believe what?” Iwaizumi interrupted, forcing Ushijima’s glassy gaze to meet his. “That you’re scared? What the hell is so ridiculous about that? I see the same awful shit every time I try to sleep, and the only thing that keeps me from going batshit fucking crazy is knowing that you’re okay.”

Closing his eyes, Ushijima shook his head. “I didn’t mean to say you didn’t have to deal with it, too. I just —” He swallowed hard. “I just found you. I don’t want to lose you already.”

Iwaizumi closed his eyes and choked on a sob. “Never.” He buried his fingers and Ushijima’s hair and crushed their mouths together. Their lips moved hungrily while Ushijima’s arm wrapped around his waist.

Groaning, Iwaizumi swung over to straddle Ushijima’s lap, curving his hands over the smooth jaw he had shaved a mere few hours before. He looked down into Ushijima’s face, full of awe, and ran his hands down the lean column of Ushijima’s throat and broad chest. “You said you wanted to know what you are to me, that my answer would give me yours.”

“Yes, I did.” Ushijima held his breath and waited.

Iwaizumi locked in on Ushijima’s bright hazel eyes and could not think of why he had not done this sooner. “All my life, the only thing I knew about relationships is that people get together, tolerate each other long enough to pop out a couple of kids, and then they treat each other like shit until neither of them can stand it anymore or they die. I saw it every day until my dad finally left, and that was something I never wanted for myself.”

Ushijima hummed in acknowledgement. “I know the feeling”

“Yeah, you do.” Iwaizumi wound his arms around Ushijima’s waist, fingers idly brushing the hollow in the small of his back. “Which is why I know you’ll get it when I say that I have no idea how normal romance stuff is supposed to work. I don’t know what to say or what to do.”

“I see.” Ushijima averted his eyes and exhaled heavily. “Thank you for telling me.”

Shaking his head, Iwaizumi said, “No, that’s not what I’m trying to say.” He lolled his head back and chuckled at the ceiling. “I am so screwing this up.” He pressed his lips against Ushijima’s forehead and harrumphed. “Let me try this again.”

Iwaizumi murmured, “Look at me, Wakatoshi. I want to get this right, and I need to know you understand me.” When Ushijima’s gaze fell onto his once again, Iwaizumi exhaled heavily. “What I mean to say is that I don’t know how a normal relationship is supposed to work, but if I’m gonna figure it out —”

He quirked a shy smile and looked down at the scant distance between his body and Ushijima’s battered one, and all it once they were way too far apart. “If I’m going to learn what that means, there’s no one I’d rather try it with than you.”

Ushijima’s hand tightened on Iwaizumi’s hip and his jaw hung open. “Hajime,” he breathed, eyes wide. “I’d like that.”

“Good.” Iwaizumi snared Ushijima’s mouth with his, and his heart pounded as his fingers dug into the taut muscle of Ushijima’s hips. His entire skin vibrated when Ushijima moaned into his mouth and trailed kisses down the column of his throat. “Holy shit, that is nice.”

Ushijima nipped at Iwaizumi’s collar bone and grinned into his skin as he nuzzled the slope of his shoulder. “I wish I could touch you the way I want to,” he panted.

Iwaizumi paused and sat back in Ushijima’s lap, sinking his teeth into his lower lip. “Uh, this might be a good time to mention that I’ve never actually . . . you know. _That_.” His cheeks warmed at the implication of the word he couldn’t even spit out.

“Really?” Ushijima’s brow knit. “I assumed — someone as attractive as you wouldn’t have difficulty catching somebody’s interest.”

Growing even redder, Iwaizumi hid his face in Ushijima’s hair. “I’m not, uh — it’s never been something I’ve wanted before, but I trust you. I know you’ll take care of me.”

The hand at Iwaizumi’s hip slowly trailed up his arm until it cupped his cheek. Ushijima angled Iwaizumi’s face so their eyes could meet, and he gave a solemn nod. “I’ll always take care of you, but I wouldn’t do anything you aren’t comfortable with or ready for. You know that, right?”

“’Course I do.” Iwaizumi brushed a kiss to Ushijima’s lips. “But I want to feel new things, and I wanna do that with you.”

“Soon.” Ushijima put his hand flat on Iwaizumi’s chest, and the gap between them widened. “One step at a time.”

Iwaizumi gave a crooked grin and slid off of Ushijima’s lap. “One step at a time,” he repeated as he settled back on the couch next to Ushijima. With a chortle, he added, “Well, at least you’re not panicking anymore.”

Ushijima threw back his head and his shoulders shook with quiet laughter, the mere sight of it making Iwaizumi’s chest tingle with an emotion he couldn’t identify but wholly welcomed. “So it seems.”

His mood buoyed by Ushijima’s renewed cheer, Iwaizumi grabbed the remote from the kotatsu and burrowed into Ushijima’s side. “I don’t suppose you ever watch _actual_ baseball, or are you just into cartoon sports?”

“I have to admit I haven’t tried.” Ushijima hummed when Iwaizumi flipped on the set. “Isn’t Koushien starting this week?”

“You read my mind.” Iwaizumi closed his eyes in contentment when Ushijima’s arm draped around his shoulders. “Ryou’s game isn’t until tomorrow, but the team that’s playing now is supposed to be the tournament favorite.”

Ushijima held him a little bit closer as Iwaizumi got him up to speed on the ins and outs of high school baseball, neither of them in a hurry to let Manaka back into the apartment and break the air of peace that had fallen over them.

That night, as Iwaizumi prepared to climb into bed, he stopped as soon as he pulled back the covers. The futon on the floor was gone, with Ushijima sleeping in his own bed for the sake of comfort and recovery, yet that didn’t stop Iwaizumi from straining to hear Ushijima’s subtle wheeze of sleep.

In a few moments, Iwaizumi found himself softly knocking on Ushijima’s door. “Can I come in?”

The door opened, and Iwaizumi got an eyeful of Ushijima’s chest, bare save for the sling over one shoulder and the bandages on the other. He swallowed hard and forced his gaze squarely to Ushijima’s face, lest he find himself leering like an untried teenager. “I, um . . . yeah.” When Ushijima stepped aside to let him in, Iwaizumi darted into the room and sat on the edge of the bed.

Ushijima sat next to him and gave him a questioning look. “Is something wrong?”

“This is going to sound stupid.” Iwaizumi sighed and scrubbed his face with his hands. “I haven’t had much luck with —” He glanced over to find Ushijima hanging on his every word, and he swallowed hard around the guilt for caving into the urge to spill his problems into Ushijima’s already burdened lap. “You know what, forget it. I shouldn’t bother you. You need to rest.”

“Tell me,” Ushijima urged, his hand covering Iwaizumi’s on the sliver of mattress between them. “If there’s something wrong, I want to know.”

Iwaizumi ground his palms against his tired, bleary eyes and yawned. “I’ve been sleeping like shit since you’ve been gone, and I —” He dared to look over at Ushijima to look for pity or impatience, but there was only attentiveness. Iwaizumi’s lips twitched into an almost-smile. “If it’s not a pain in the ass or anything, would you mind a bunkmate?”

“Only if it’s you.” Ushijima harrumphed. “The truth is, I would probably sleep better knowing where you are, too. I didn’t want to ask any more of you. You’re doing so much for me already.”

Slapping his hands on his thighs, Iwaizumi hoisted himself up. “Well, that settles it. I’ll go dig out the futon.”

Ushijima wrapped his fingers around Iwaizumi’s wrist and said quietly, “You don’t have to sleep on the floor. There’s plenty of space for both of us up here.”

“But your arm. You need to —”

“To get some sleep?” Ushijima raised a brow. “I was planning on it. Did you have something else in mind?”

“Maybe later.” Iwaizumi started unfastening Ushijima’s sling and massaged the indents of the strap from the skin underneath. Ushijima hummed at the contact, and the sound made Iwaizumi shiver just a little bit.

Rolling his good shoulder, Ushijima murmured, “That thing makes my arm go numb. It tingles.”

“Then lie down and give it some rest,” Iwaizumi ordered, herding Ushijima further down the bed. “Move it.”

Ushijima complied and allowed Iwaizumi to pull the covers over him after he scooted to the far side of the bed, leaving a small but adequate amount of space for Iwaizumi to slip in as well. However, as soon as he was under the blanket, Ushijima’s arm curled around Iwaizumi’s shoulders and corralled him into his side.

Their eyes met, and Ushijima leaned forward to brush a kiss on Iwaizumi’s forehead. “Goodnight. If you need me, I’ll be here.”

“Same to you.” Iwaizumi marveled at the unfamiliar contact, but there was something heady about being so close and knowing he didn’t have to let go anytime soon. He bit back a grin as he curled into Ushijima’s embrace for some long-awaited peace.

The familiar haunting dreams came like they usually did, but when they shook Iwaizumi from sleep, his nerves settled once he felt the heat of Ushijima’s skin against his cheek. He buried those images under Ushijima’s clean, earthy scent, and it didn’t take long for him to drift back off.

When Iwaizumi awoke, his limbs were warm and heavy and so were his eyelids under the persistent morning sun. Humming, he burrowed his face further into his pillow, only for his eyes to fly open when his pillow rumbled against his ear. He raised his head, and his gaze was met with a smiling Ushijima, who appeared unbothered by Iwaizumi’s entire body draped over his, his face buried in Ushijima’s chest.

“Good morning,” Ushijima chuckled. “Though it is almost noon.”

Iwaizumi rolled off of Ushijima and sat bolt upright on the other side of the bed. “Holy shit, are you serious?” He ground the sleep from his eyes with his palms. “Sorry I was all up in your business. I know you hate sleeping late.”

“It has its benefits.” Ushijima stretched his good arm behind his head and crossed his long legs. “And you weren’t bothering me at all.”

Yawning, Iwaizumi scratched the back of his head and rose onto wobbling feet. “How the hell did I even end up like that?”

Ushijima’s brow knit. “You don’t remember?”

“Remember what?” Iwaizumi asked as he went about his usual morning routine of gathering Ushijima’s change of clothes. He dropped the bundle at Ushijima’s quiet response.

“I was having a nightmare, so you crawled on top of me and said . . . _something_ and went right back to sleep.”

Iwaizumi scrambled to pick up the pile of clothes and shook his head. “Damn that was stupid. I could’ve hurt you.” His hands were quaking and wouldn’t take hold of his quarry while his brain whirred at light speed, a slide show of all the ways he could have unintentionally set back Ushijima’s recovery. “Shit.”

“Hajime, stop. Please.” Ushijima stalked across the room and used his entire body to pin Iwaizumi to the closet door. “You didn’t do anything wrong. You didn’t hurt me because you can’t and never would. Do you really think I would share my bed with someone I don’t trust?”

Rapping the back of his head on the wood behind him, Iwaizumi said, “That’s not the problem. Your shoulder —”

“Will be fine,” Ushijima interrupted. “I’ve received the best medical care available, and you’ve done more than enough to take care of me.” He brushed the back of his fingers against Iwaizumi’s cheek. “But I need you in ways I don’t even know. And you need me just as much.”

Iwaizumi closed his eyes and rested his forehead on Ushijima’s good shoulder. “This is so messed up. I’m nervous and worried all the time, and I feel like I’m afraid of everything.”

Ushijima wrapped his arm around Iwaizumi. “I know. But we’ll be all right. I have faith in you, and I hope you have faith in me.”

“Stop being sweet,” Iwaizumi muttered into Ushijima’s skin. “It’s gross.”

“If you insist,” Ushijima replied, though he made no move to release his hold, and Iwaizumi was glad for it.

The rest of their day was just as banal as the day before, and when it came time to head for bed, Iwaizumi didn’t object when Ushijima took his hand and invited him to share again. This time, the night passed a little bit more peacefully than the one before.

Yet the days weren’t boring to Iwaizumi because he and Ushijima spent them together.

At last, the day Iwaizumi was scheduled to appear in court arrived, and Ushijima was quieter than usual. It wasn’t until halfway through breakfast that Iwaizumi set down his chopsticks and said, “You’re being weird.”

“I’m just thinking,” Ushijima replied, barely pausing between bites until his plate was clean. Iwaizumi watched him and didn’t miss the tension in his hand as he gripped his chopsticks.

“Liar.” Iwaizumi gathered the dishes and left Ushijima blinking in surprise behind him. “I know when you’re worrying. Don’t act like you can hide it from me.”

Ushijima nodded. “You’re right. I do have something on my mind.” His fingers drummed idly on the table. “When the trial is over, you’ll be able to go back to work, but I’m on leave for at least two more weeks and on desk duty for a while after that.”

Iwaizumi turned on the sink and started washing the dishes. “Well, yeah. That was always the plan, wasn’t it?”

“I didn’t think twice about it until I got used to spending a lot of time with you,” Ushijima said softly. “I’ll miss it.”

“Oh.” Wiping his hands off on his pajama bottoms, Iwaizumi looked over at Ito, who was dozing on the couch. They were as alone as they were going to get, so Iwaizumi padded over behind Ushijima’s chair and looped an arm over his uninjured arm. “It’s a good thing you know where I live. Feel free to come over anytime.”

Ushijima chuckled and reached up, his fingers curving up the slope of Iwaizumi’s neck and into his hair. “I’ll remember that.”

Iwaizumi leaned into Ushijima’s palm and hummed. “I never knew it could feel so nice just to touch someone.”

“It’s different.” Ushijima looked up at Iwaizumi over his shoulder. “When you love someone, it’s different.”

For as long as the subject had been relevant, Iwaizumi could not recall Ushijima ever discussing his past romantic affairs. However, something in his chest danced with satisfaction at the knowledge that he was able to give Ushijima something he could not find anywhere else.

Their mouths found one another, and Iwaizumi wished they could spend the rest of the day like this rather than usher in an end to their time exclusively in each other’s company. But the day’s events would give them something they both desperately needed: freedom from house arrest.

After, Iwaizumi helped Ushijima into one of his regular suits, his fingers hesitant on the straps of the gun holster he hadn’t seen since the day Ushijima was shot. There were still streaks of blood on it, the saturation strong enough to be visible even against the black leather.

“Do you really need that?” Iwaizumi murmured even as he finished buckling it on. “I think there’ll be plenty of goons around. I’ll be safe.”

“Goons?” Ushijima quirked a brow as he and Iwaizumi wrangled him into his jacket.

Iwaizumi snorted. “Ah, it’s just something my mom said. She called our security detail my goons.”

“So am I a goon?” Ushijima asked with a teasing smile.

“The best kind, I promise.” Iwaizumi strapped Ushijima into his sling and nodded toward the door. “Let’s go. Our goons are waiting.”

Ushijima chuckled and followed, and Iwaizumi pretended not to watch him tuck his gun into his jacket as they headed out of the apartment.

The car ride was eerily similar to the last trip Iwaizumi had taken to the courthouse, but this time, his hand was laced with Ushijima’s. Manaka and Ito were in the front seat, with the latter driving the car, but even if they had been able to see, Iwaizumi wouldn’t have cared. He didn’t care if every single person employed at Trade Inc. knew how he felt about Ushijima.

Outside the courthouse, a swarm of black suits awaited him, but before he could object, Ushijima stood directly in front of him and ordered, “Stay behind me.”

The edge in Ushijima’s voice was undeniable, and Iwaizumi was compelled to obey. However, this time their procession went as planned, and soon Iwaizumi found himself with Ushijima inside a windowless room as he waited his turn to give his testimony.

An hour peeled by in silence before Iwaizumi sprawled back in his chair and groaned at the ceiling. “I just want this to be over.”

“I know.” Ushijima squeezed Iwaizumi’s knee, but he appeared just as bored and impatient as Iwaizumi felt.

Finally, there was a knock on the door, and when Ushijima answered it, Iwaizumi sighed in relief at his murmured statement of, “It’s time.”

The endless briefing he had received kicked in as Iwaizumi took the stand. He detailed the financial aspects of the fraud case in the simplest way he could, waiting for comprehension to light in the jury members’ eyes after every point. He was questioned, cross-examined, and questioned again, but seeing Ushijima seated in the courtroom right in the front row gave him the stability and fortitude to answer every one with confidence.

To Iwaizumi’s surprise, Ushijima was directed to take the stand next. He listened in horrified awe as Ushijima detailed the events of that day in excruciating detail. Iwaizumi had not heard all the details; he only remembered the shots, being pushed down, and then told to run.

He had not known that Ushijima saw the shooter before he had fired the first shot. Nor had he realized that Ushijima had only had time to protect either himself or Iwaizumi, and he had chosen to save Iwaizumi. It was also the first time he had heard the name of the man Ushijima had killed to save his life yet again.

Iwaizumi was sure he reeked of nervous sweat by the time Ushijima’s testimony was finished. When Ushijima was dismissed from the stand, their eyes met and he knew Ushijima saw it spelled out on his face.

Right after, court recessed for the lunch hour, and the prosecuting attorney told them they could leave. They were quickly ensconced in the car and well underway before Iwaizumi finally said, “You know, you lied to me.”

“I did,” Ushijima affirmed, looking straight at the seat in front of him, not bothering to argue or deny Iwaizumi’s statement.

“You said he shot you because you saw him; that isn’t what happened.” Iwaizumi turned to look at Ushijima’s stolid profile, no trace of embarrassment or contrition or anything but resolve on his face. “He friggin shot you while trying to shoot me.”

Ushijima grunted an affirmative. “Yes, he did.”

“And now we’re back to the whole ‘you lied to me’ thing.” Iwaizumi closed his eyes and banged his head against the seat back a few times because he didn’t know what else to do. “Why did you do that? It didn’t change what happened.”

Shaking his head, Ushijima said, “Because I could live with being shot more than I could live with watching it happen to you. I couldn’t put that burden on you. You blame yourself for a lot of things that aren’t your fault or can’t be helped. I didn’t want to be one of them.”

All at once, Iwaizumi wanted to smack Ushijima and shake him and smash that calm resolve of his. Ushijima had no business being so sedate about accepting a bullet on his behalf and lying about how it happened to protect his feelings, but Iwaizumi couldn’t believe he was so surprised. This is the man he had always known, ready to take on the weight of the world and drag it kicking and screaming to the finish line.

So he kissed Ushijima instead.

When they split apart with twin smiles of contentment on their faces, Iwaizumi noticed Ito’s eyes widening in the rear view mirror, but he didn’t care. Iwaizumi was happy to let anyone and everyone know that Ushijima Wakatoshi wasn’t just the man who saved his life or his roommate or his coworker:

He was Ushijima’s, and Ushijima was his. Nothing else would ever matter more than that.

 

 

# Epilogue

 

“It’s going to be hard to go in there,” Iwaizumi said outside the hospital room, his arm snaked around Ushijima’s for support. “I’ve been afraid to come here.”

Ushijima nodded. “That’s understandable. You were under lock and key, and it was a lot to take in.”

“But still.” Iwaizumi read the placard outside the room more than once, hoping it held answers for him other than a name. It did not. “I feel like I should’ve done something for him, or he wouldn’t be here.”

Shaking his head, Ushijima murmured, “Don’t do that. You aren’t responsible for his decisions. He wanted to go home to his wife badly enough to put himself in danger, which I understand that more than I care to admit. He chose his actions and he paid for them. It isn’t your fault and it never will be.”

“I know, but —” Once again, Iwaizumi looked up at the neatly written card that read Tokugawa Hirofumi and let out a shuddering sigh. “The last time I saw him, he was smiling and handing me a glass of expensive whisky from a bottle worth more than everything I own. Now he’s —” He swallowed hard. “— here.”

Ushijima reached for the doorknob and said, “I hope you don’t mind that instead of dwelling on that, I’m just happy it isn’t you.”

Iwaizumi prepared to chastise Ushijima for his words, but the door opened before he got the chance, and the first thing Iwaizumi saw inside the room is the stark white linens and Tokugawa’s sunken, sallow countenance. “Oh, god.”

Two sets of eyes lit on Iwaizumi, and he was startled to find Takatsuki and a woman of similar age, with his arms wrapped around her small shoulders. “Iwaizumi-kun, Wakatoshi-kun, it’s good to see you both.”

“I, uh, didn’t know someone else would be here. I’ll come back later.” Iwaizumi tried to backpedal from the room, but Takatsuki gave Ushijima a pointed glance and all at once, his exit was blocked by a solid, immutable arm. “Did you need me for something, sir?”

Takatsuki gave a chuckle, but it was waterlogged with something dangerously close to frailty — a trait Iwaizumi had never once associated with his employer. “Well, yes, but that can wait. I just don’t want you to leave on my account. Reiko and I spend a lot of time here.”

At Iwaizumi’s questioning look, Reiko swatted Takatsuki’s arms away and approached Iwaizumi. “I’m Tokugawa Reiko. It’s good to meet you.” She shook Iwaizumi’s hand and gave an eye roll in Takatsuki’s direction. “In case you’re wondering, he’s my brother and also a pain in my ass.”

Iwaizumi chortled, and he could see the family resemblance between Takatsuki and Reiko once he knew to look for it. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Tokugawa-san. Your husband talked about you a lot.”

“I know.” She looked wistfully back at her husband’s still form and bit her lip. “I wish he had thought about himself a little more, or he’d still be here.”

A reply that Tokugawa _was_ still there was on the tip of Iwaizumi’s tongue, but he snapped it back in immediately. Instead, he offered, “I just wish I could thank him. He probably saved my life.”

Reiko gave him a watery smile. “I’m glad he did. He had high hopes for you. He talked about you quite a bit, as well.” She reached out and grasped Iwaizumi’s larger hand in hers and gave it a squeeze. “We never had any kids. He was always so busy, and it was ‘when we have time’ over and over again until we were both too old for it.

“But here and there, he’d come home from work and talk about one of the new interns, and he’d get that same light in his eyes that Saeki gets —” She nodded toward Takatsuki. “— when he talks about his children. But only the ones he thought the world of, and he definitely thought that of you.”

Iwaizumi’s eyes welled up, and his teeth clenched down on his bottom lip as he tried to reign in the complicated mix of emotions her words brought on. “Thank you for saying that, Tokugawa-san. I’ll never forget it.”

“Good.” She bobbed her head and returned to Tokugawa’s bedside. “It’s a good thing you boys came today.”

Ushijima stiffened behind him, and Takatsuki caught onto Iwaizumi’s puzzlement. “He’s not going to wake up, and there isn’t a single doctor in this country who disagrees. So we’re giving everyone who wishes to give their final respects, and tomorrow, we’re going to let him go.”

Iwaizumi inhaled sharply, and Ushijima’s hand took his in a silent show of support. “I’m so sorry.”

“I know you are.” Reiko smiled down at her dying husband and added a choked, “We all are.”

No one spoke for the next handful of minutes as Iwaizumi gazed down at Tokugawa’s still form, hoping his thoughts would somehow radiate and soak into Tokugawa’s brain, into his very being.

Iwaizumi gave Reiko a deep bow and said, “Thank you for giving me the chance to see him. I’m sorry for your loss, and I hope you can forgive him for not taking better care of himself because he loved you so much.”

“Thank you, Iwaizumi-kun.” She gave him a warm smile. “Maybe someday, if you don’t mind, I’d really like for you two to come over for dinner. I’d love to get to know you better.”

“I’d like that.” Iwaizumi nodded again before he and Ushijima took their leave.

Outside the door, Ushijima’s arm went automatically around Iwaizumi’s shoulder and held him close as he cried. He cried for Tokugawa, for Reiko, for the kids they never had, and for himself because he didn’t get a chance to know the man better.

The ride home was completely silent, and once they arrived at the estate, Iwaizumi wandered into the gardens rather than back to their apartment, nestling himself on the bench amidst in the ring of Ushijima’s sunflowers.

“Do you want to be alone?” Ushijima asked.

Iwaizumi nodded. “I just need to think.”

With a hum of understanding, Ushijima brushed a kiss on Iwaizumi’s forehead and said, “I’ll see you when you come up for dinner.”

“Oh, are you cooking?”

Ushijima harrumphed. “I’m going to try.”

And just like that, Iwaizumi was alone. He sat there for what felt like an eternity, mulling over everything that had happened and what he was going to do about it. Takatsuki had given him a decision to make, and while he had thought he had an answer to it, the visit to Tokugawa’s bedside had changed everything.

As if he had heard Iwaizumi’s thoughts, Takatsuki’s head popped around the wall of sunflowers and he asked, “May I join you?”

“Of course.” Iwaizumi scooted over to make room on the stone bench, and they sat together quietly for a few minutes before Takatsuki spoke.

“Hiro and I were in business school together, you know?” Takatsuki steepled his fingers between his legs, his foot tapping on the cobblestones beneath his shoes. “He was always better at everything than me, and it easily could’ve been him running Trade and not me. But I wanted it more, and he just wanted to marry my sister and be happy with his lot in life. So when I decided to start Trade, he was the first person I recruited to get the business off the ground.”

Takatsuki looked over at Iwaizumi. “When I asked him about you, he said that you were sharp and driven, and one of these days, you’d take his job someday and probably mine, too. ‘And he can have it’ is what he said, and that’s when I knew I had an asset on my hands.”

“I didn’t know he felt that strongly about it,” Iwaizumi admitted. “I just thought I was the least stupid person available to help him with his paperwork.”

With a shrug, Takatsuki harrumphed. “Well, he said something of that nature to me, too, but I’ve known him for a long time. I know he would never say something like that to me unless he absolutely meant it. You can imagine my relief when Wakatoshi-kun told me about your predicament and asked to be put on the first flight back to make sure you were safe.”

“He left that part out,” Iwaizumi grumbled, glaring at the stone path in front of him as if it was Ushijima owning up to his well-meaning white lies. “I thought you sent him back because our living arrangement made it the sensible thing to do.”

Takatsuki chuckled and shook his head. “Oh, no. I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t have taken no for an answer, but I had no intention of denying his request.”

He looked around them at the sunflowers and hummed. “Wakatoshi’s flowers are my favorite part about this entire garden. Millions of yen spent on exotic breeds of roses, and the highlight is this little slice of peace right in the middle. Takako agrees, though she’d never say it. She spends a lot of time here.”

“Wakatoshi loves being here,” Iwaizumi agreed. “He’s brought me through the gardens a few times, and he can point every one of these flowers out by name. I never thought of him as a hobby kind of guy, but knowing him like I do now, it suits him.”

“I agree.” Takatsuki crossed his arms and sighed. “Have you considered what we talked about the last time we talked?”

Iwaizumi took a deep breath. “Yeah, I have. If it’s all right with you, I want to take Tokugawa-san’s faith in me and run with it. Not because I feel guilty or anything, but because I’ve been trying to prove myself against stronger opponents since I was a kid. I never thought I succeeded at it until I realized there are different kinds of success.”

“I’m glad to hear that.” Takatsuki took a card from the inside pocket of his jacket and handed it to Iwaizumi, and he recognized the same kind of card Tokugawa had used to let him up into the executive suites. “Starting Monday, I’d like you to report to Morita on the third floor. He has a lot to offer as a teacher. He’ll help you get to wherever you want to go.”

Wide eyed, Iwaizumi gaped at Takatsuki and breathed a quiet, “Thank you, sir.”

“It’s very much my pleasure.” Takatsuki stood and headed out of the cove of flowers, but he stopped and turned around. “By the way, I’m happy for you and Wakatoshi-kun. I’ve worried about him for a while because he was always so alone. Fatherly instincts, I suppose, and the nasty ordeal with his parents —”

He shook his head and curled his lip in distaste. “He deserved better, so I tried to give it to him wherever I could. But you’ve given him more than I ever could, and I want to thank you for that. I know his mother from a few social functions and whatnot, and it’s hard to believe they’re even related.”

Iwaizumi nodded. “He’s a lot more like his dad.”

“I gathered as much.” Takatsuki smiled at Iwaizumi. “Once again, I’m glad you’re here. Please don’t hesitate to ask if there’s anything I can do for you.”

“I’ll remember that.” With that, Iwaizumi was once again alone, but this time, he decided it no longer suited him.

He headed back toward the house and up the stairs to the apartment he shared with Ushijima, which had already taken over every time he thought of ‘home’. Behind the kitchen counter, Ushijima made slow but steady progress prepping their dinner, and they fell into harmony as Iwaizumi moved to assist.

After their meal, full and sedate, they sat scrunched together on the couch, the television powered off and the whole place quiet save for the sounds of their breathing.

Ushijima was the first to speak. “I’m sorry about Tokugawa-san. I know you liked him a lot.”

“Yeah, I did.” Iwaizumi leaned back further into Ushijima’s large frame and closed his eyes with a smile. “So, I go back to work on Monday. Third floor this time, though.”

“Oh?” Ushijima pecked a kiss to Iwaizumi’s forehead and smiled against his temple. “Congratulations. It’s a great opportunity.”

Iwaizumi yawned and burrowed further into the recess of Ushijima’s side. “But I’d say the hell with it if we could just stay here like this forever.”

“Agreed.”

They sat together in peaceful silence, soaking in each other’s company. Iwaizumi knew he wasn’t completely at piece at that point in time, but as they supported each other, he knew they would be soon enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that's a wrap. I hope you enjoyed the story, and for those happy few of you who have stuck with this story from the beginning, I can't thank you enough for your support. It meant the world to me and made the journey I took when I started this story all the more worthwhile.


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